Shine: The Knowing Ones

by Amy Freeman

  The rushing light released Sam and Trin into a bank of drifted snow just outside the castle wall.

  “блядь!” Trin threw a palm into the snow, pushing himself up working his way out of Mikhail’s coat. He threw it over Sam, scooping her into his arms—her costume so thin, her skin ice cold. Holding her close to his body he produced as much heat as he could. She hadn’t made the cottage, but it was in sight.

  He pushed through the snow covered grounds, his powerful body tackling the wind and cold. But as the woods drew nearer the snow became deeper, the temperature dropping by the minute.

  Blue power lit his irises. Lowering his gaze, the snow at his feet fell in on itself, sinking, liquefying into a single path, and carving its way through the blanket of deep white as the runoff streamed down the hill toward their destination. Clutching Sam’s body, Trin made it to the bottom of the hill, the icy wind stinging his face and neck. He maneuvered the wooded area, passing through the vast pines to the back of the structure, quickening his pace. Moving along the side of the cottage, he rounded the corner to the front entrance and froze—unable to move, unable to breathe.

  Standing at the entry of the cottage, looking him dead in the eyes was his dearest friend, his Veduny brother, Anvil.

  He stood, strong, vibrant, life coursing through him as Trin had never before seen. Beautiful, powerful, his emerald eyes gleamed, contrasting the darkened night and the moonlit snow. He worked furiously, deciphering, decoding, shredding through Trin’s energy, trying desperately to make sense of him.

  “Anvil...” Trin whispered.

  Anvil’s searching eyes narrowed in awe. “Вы знаете меня...” You know me...

  Trin nodded once.

  Anvil’s gaze fell to the bundled woman in Trin’s arms. He could not see her, but the binding energy was easily recognizable, like a knife in his heart. Pain and confusion contorted his features.

  Trin glanced to Sam’s freezing body and back to Anvil. In desperation he glanced at the door. Anvil turned and opened it.

  CHAPTER FORTY SIX

  T rin carried Sam through the door, into the warmth of the small house. Moving toward the bed, Anvil pulled the blankets away as Trin laid her down on the pillow still wrapped in Mikhail’s coat. Trin turned to face Anvil and was met with a cold wall of accusation. Anvil stood, completely ashen—eyes locked on Sam’s haunting face.

  Trin took a tentative step. “Anvil...”

  Anvil turned. “What are you?” His frame trembled, the energy around his body growing in a shield of bright white. “Why have you come here?” he seethed in agony “And why...” The words cut off in his throat, his eyes darting back to Sam. Overwhelming despair shattered the wall of anger and suspicion, replacing it with the all-consuming grief; always lurking right beneath the surface.

  “Anvil, please listen.”

  Agony and fury consumed his tribal brother. Trin knew his friend was about to break, as only a Keeper could.

  “My name is Trinton,” Trin explained in a rush. “You are my mentor. You have been with me since I was two years old. I am the new Keeper of the Veduny tribe. I am your successor.”

  Anvil heard nothing. Pain had taken over and there was nothing Trin could do to stop it. The searing bright white gleamed around Anvil’s frame and Trin followed suit, preparing against all common sense to fight his mentor.

  The first blow came, lightning quick, Trin blocking with expert precision just as Anvil had taught him years ago. Another wicked blow followed, then another, Trin barely blocking each one.

  “Anvil!” Trin tried again, this time dodging a kick that would have sent him through the front door. This was not the master he knew. Blistering pain consumed him; too fresh.

  Anvil’s blind agony finally created a lack of focus which Trin took advantage of. Grabbing Anvil’s arm, he twisted him around, securing him in a lethal hold. He held his Keeper’s bracelet in front of him. “Look,” he demanded. “How would I have this? I know you can see it in my energy. I am who I claim to be!”

  Anvil stared, his frenzied eyes gazing in disbelief, the irrational hysteria abating. Loosening his hold, Trin released his brother to an upright position. Anvil turned, breath labored, staring at Trin and then at Sam lying unconscious on the bed.

  “Sam is the next Veduny Oracle,” Trin breathed. “She is Anavi’s successor.”

  Anvil looked from Trin to Sam, the blazing white shield disappearing.

  Trin waited, chest heaving with shortened breath, waiting for his words to take hold.

  Anvil studied Trin, studied the bracelet hanging from his wrist. “You are faster than I am.”

  “You trained me.”

  “I did well.”

  “Yeah, I never thought I’d be using it to kick your ass.”

  A hint of a smile crept into Anvil’s eyes, the brother Trin knew resurfacing. He took a step forward, eyes distant with astonishment. “How is it you are here?” he finally asked. “What has happened?”

  Mikhail’s words reverberated in Trin’s head. Things must stay the same. No contact. Trin hesitated, not knowing how to proceed.

  Anvil’s eyes flashed with exquisite intuition, completing his own detective work. He lifted his chin, eyes resolute, astounded.

  “I’m so sorry,” Trin said, anguished. “You weren’t supposed to see us.”

  Anvil held Trin in an inscrutable gaze. Finally, he crossed the room to Sam’s bedside; still reading, deciphering, decoding. “I disagree,” Anvil answered. “This was no mistake, especially something of this magnitude.”

  Trin glanced at the floor. “You would say that,” he muttered.

  Anvil looked up.

  Trin shook his head and moved to face him fully. “What’s done is done,” Trin said. “I have been strictly forbidden to have any contact with the tribe but that’s just not how it’s going to play. Chernobog is trying to cross.” Anvil’s eyes gleamed. Trin continued. “Ashbel is involved. He is after my charge and we’re not sure why or how it all ties in but they are working together. He entered our time, took her, and brought her here.”

  Anvil stared in disbelief. “How?”

  “We don’t know,” Trin answered. “We were able to contain enough of his energy to send me here to get her. My instructions were to find Sam and bring her back without contacting the tribe.”

  “It is too late for that,” Anvil said.

  Trin nodded in somber acknowledgement.

  Anvil grew silent for a moment, his head lowered. After a moment of consideration, he said, “We must get you back.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Trin replied, glancing at Sam. “We can’t leave until she comes to.”

  Anvil stared. “Why?”

  “We had enough energy to get me here,” he said. “Sam is our only way back.”

  Anvil squinted in confusion.

  “Sam can also jump time.”

  Anvil’s eyes drifted to Sam, astounded.

  Trin moved past Anvil to the bed, sitting on the edge, taking Sam’s hand. “I don’t know how to reverse what he has done,” he said. “He did the same thing to Anavi. That’s why she couldn’t fight him.”

  Anvil watched his successor with pained eyes. A moment passed and then he lowered his head and turned for the door. “I will go to the Elders and see if they know anything about this kind of power.”

  “They won’t,” Trin said. “None of us know.”

  Anvil watched Trin closely. “I will find out what I can,” he said. “I will be right back.”

  “No one can know we are here.”

  Anvil stared. “What choice do we have? You cannot stay here, and you cannot leave unless we can awaken Samantha.”

  Trin stared, frustrated, knowing he was right. “Anvil,” he said. “I’m so sorry,” he looked to Sam, “for this...for everything you have suffered.”

  Anvil paused, wisdom radiating in his countenance through his sorrow. He did not know Trin, but he could not deny the kinship, predating Trin’s
physical life, solidly marking his future. “Forgive me for attacking you.”

  Trin gave a slight smile. “It’s good for me.”

  Anvil stared a moment longer and turned for the door.

  Anvil trudged the snowy hill toward the stables in back of the castle, pushing forward, focused yet still filtering shock. His jade eyes glinted in the swirling white, wind whipping at his ebony hair beneath an ample, dark hood. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Crisp air filtered the plea—the flaxen haired spirit manifesting beside him. “I was not allowed. I’ve taken your place as his guide. You are still in the flesh.”

  Anvil gazed at the ground. He knew he only had a small piece of the whole, but “not allowed” seemed to be the Divinity’s answer to everything. Had he not been tested enough? Had he not suffered enough?

  “That is not how this works,” Llamar said, catching his thought. “This is not a test to be passed. Your suffering serves a purpose.”

  “I know,” Anvil said, cutting him off.

  Llamar was quiet for a moment. “You have suffered more than any of us. It is not in vain, I can promise you. Your suffering is only temporary, Anvil, and it doesn’t compare to the joy you will one day feel.”

  Anvil looked out across the snowy ground trying to contain his bitterness. “One day.”

  Llamar put a hand on his shoulder and vanished into the frozen air.

  Pulling his long coat around him, he forged ahead toward the castle stables. Wrenching the large doors open, pushing them aside, he entered the stable area. He stood, unmoving, still spinning with the inconceivable events at hand. He forced himself to move—no time for shock. Crossing the stable to his horse, he opened the stall door and walked him out. He saddled him up, and moved to mount him when a potent, unmistakable energy moved like wind through the rafters, attacking his senses, filling him with emptiness.

  Clinging to the reins of his horse, Anvil spun around, senses peaked, intuition flared, searching out the source of the assault. Pluming jade irises scanned the stable, pain and anger rising. “Where are you?” he seethed, eyes glinting in the shadows.

  Time is nearly up...

  Anvil trembled, fury building.

  The energy circled, lifted, and disappeared leaving only the cryptic phrase and the wind.

  “I will find you, brother,” Anvil hissed. “I will hunt you until the day I die...” His voice echoed, emphasizing the emptiness. Anvil received regular, fleeting messages, taunting him; a reminder Ashbel would never let him forget, he would never let him heal, and he would never find him.

  Trinton said Ashbel had jumped time. An ability of that magnitude would make it more difficult. But Anvil would never stop. He would never rest until he found him. Nothing else mattered. Without Anavi there was no reason to live.

  Jaw tight, he scanned the stable once more, bitter pain in his eyes. Placing his foot in the stirrup, he threw his leg over the giant black steed and tightened the reins. The horse grunted as Anvil turned him to the stable door and hiked him off toward the Ivanova temple.

  CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

  T rin checked the drapes, drawing them closed, then made his way over to Sam. He could only speculate as to what she had been through. Reading her was difficult like this. All he knew for sure was that she was impossibly cold.

  He lay down, pushing an arm beneath her, pulling her to him in a sheltered embrace. Her frozen body sent a pang of alarm through his heart. The thick padded blankets weren’t enough. Hypothermia had very likely set in.

  Trin pushed himself up, unzipped his team jacket, pulled it off and tossed it. Reaching over his shoulder he grabbed the back of his T-shirt, pulled it over his head, and tossed it as well. Pushing a muscled arm underneath her tiny frame he hoisted her limp body toward him. He lay back down and wrapped her in his arms, pressing her body against his broad bare chest, wincing at the cold—a soft curse escaping his lips, then he pulled her closer.

  Critical heat flowed, building between them, radiating into Sam, thawing her chilled skin. The ever present carnal pull washed over him, threatening his focus, challenging him as he fought to bring her back.

  Sam’s breathing slowed, deepening, as heat from Trin’s body soaked into her, quieting her trembling, her tightened muscles relaxing. After a few more drawn breaths she sighed.

  Her fingers swept against his lower back, sending a chill up his spine. He waited, breathing. Without warning, her hands trailed up his back, reaching his neck, pulling him down into hers. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her hips into his.

  “Sam,” he whispered, responding to her touch, pulling her closer. “Samantha, can you hear me?”

  Sam sighed, her fingers leaving his neck and shoulders, moving to the front of his body, trailing down toward his sculpted torso.

  “Samantha, wake up.” He caught her mid-stream, grasping her hand, waiting, his resistance unraveling as the seconds passed.

  Her eyes opened.

  He exhaled, relieved. “Hey,” he whispered.

  Sam searched his hypnotic eyes, and then crushed her lips to his, giving in to the flooding gratitude at finally being safe in his arms.

  As the moment intensified, Trin struggled to reign himself in. Going against everything right and holy with the world he forced himself to break free from her kiss. She moved to his neck.

  “Sam? Samantha...” Russian cursing.

  She relented, her face lingering at his neck. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered.

  Trin’s heart pounded in his chest. “I am here,” he said, “but it isn’t over.”

  After a moment of taking in his voice, Sam pulled her face from his neck, resting her head against the pillow. “Where are we?” she asked.

  “We’re in the guest cottage in the back of the castle, in Russia, in the twentieth century.”

  Sam seemed surprisingly calm at the news. She lay very still, staring off behind him.

  “There’s more,” he said. “The kindjal you saw, the one used to kill Anavi,” he said. “The blade is alexandrite.”

  Sam stared.

  “The Veduny conduit is now aligned with Chernobog,” he said.

  Sam said nothing.

  “Sam?”

  She glanced back. “I heard you.” She didn’t need to say a word. He could feel how frightened she was. “Samantha, he hasn’t won yet,” he said. “He never saw this coming I can assure you of that.”

  Sam shook her head. “Every time we think we’re ahead of him he overcomes it,” she said. “And if Chernobog is guiding him...” She paused in desperation. “We can’t win.”

  Trin searched her eyes for a moment. “You need to remember that if all this exists then the opposite exists too. You can’t have darkness without light. It is a universal law,” he said. “If Chernobog is guiding Ashbel, who do you think is guiding us?” he asked. “We are not alone, Sam. I’m here, aren’t I?”

  Sam glanced away. He was right. She did believe in the evil that sought her, so the opposite had to exist. Sam gazed at him with anxious eyes. She threw her arms around his neck burying her face. “Thank you for finding me,” she whispered.

  He gave a quiet chuckle. “What else was I going to do?”

  Anvil steered his horse through the village on his way to the temple. A vulnerable temperament still prevailed as his tribal family attempted to carry out daily tasks, to resume normal life—the crime still fresh, the wound raw. His people nodded in respect, bowing as he passed. Acknowledging them with gratitude and humility, he continued his course. As he neared the borders of the main road he quickened his pace as much as he dared in the semi-crowded street, aiming for the path into the forest.

  Directing his horse, he nearly lost control as a young woman darted in front of him. The horse reared. Anvil shouted a command, grasping at the reins as the woman jostled a heavy bundle, spilling it out onto the path. “Forgive me.” He settled his horse, springing from the saddle, squatting down to help her retrieve her belongings.
The young woman gathered her things in a rush, stuffing them without care into the sack. A heavy shawl covered her head, a sense of anxiety emanating from beneath it. Anvil lowered his head. “Please,” he said. “Let me help you.”

  “It’s all right,” she replied, her voice rough from crying.

  Anvil placed a hand of comfort to her shoulder. His brother’s energy rocked through him like electricity. His fingers flew from her shoulder, stunned. She peered out from underneath the shawl, meeting his gaze. Instant pain ignited in her eyes, trembling as the tears returned. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She grabbed the full bag, scrambled to her feet and rushed away, leaving him stunned in the center of the road. It was a good minute before he stood, his horse waiting for his master’s next command. An older man with graying hair and a thick build hurried from his shop to Anvil’s side. “Are you all right, sir?”

  Startled, Anvil turned to the man a moment and then back to the mysterious woman. “Did you see the woman who was here just now?” he asked.

  The man looked past him. “I saw her with you but I didn’t see her face.”

  Anvil continued to search the path she had taken. There was hardly a trace of her energy to follow. The older man stared, confused. “Who was she? Do you want me to summon some men to find her?”

  He did. He wanted her found immediately, but for some reason he felt compelled to let her go. “No,” he said. “It’s all right, Yakov. Thank you.”

  Yakov nodded and returned to his shop. Anvil couldn’t get on his horse fast enough. He had to get to the council. Something significant was occurring and he realized every moment that passed with Trin and his charge here was a possible catastrophe waiting to happen. Everything was changing, he could feel it. He took off on his horse this time not caring how fast he was going through the town. He had cleared the most populated area and couldn’t afford any more distractions. He charged his horse through the vast, snow covered meadow and up the increasing slope that led to the temple.