Zaureth Awakened: 11.5 (Enigma)

by Ditter Kellen

  The feel of Klause’s palms moving to Zaureth’s temples felt strange and foreign. But Zaureth pushed through the invasion and opened his mind.

  He allowed the king to sift through his thoughts, his private moments with Amy, his innermost secrets, until Klause reached the core of his existence.

  Zaureth’s visions came alive between them, circling them both in a halo of truth that couldn’t be denied.

  Klause pressed in deeper, sifting through places that no one had been but Zaureth. Not even Amy had glimpsed so far into her mate.

  A groan of despair slipped from the king, echoing throughout Zaureth’s psyche to settle in his chest. The pain of it threatened to buckle Zaureth’s knees.

  Klause abruptly released him, staggering back a step, his face pale and drawn.

  Zaureth lifted a hand toward him, only to let it fall away. “Now you know.”

  “I do.” Klause quickly recovered, his jaw tense and unyielding.

  Gryke eased to the side of Klause, his gaze locked on Zaureth. He sank into the healer’s mind. “A word with you in private?”

  Though technically they were in private, there was always a chance of someone picking up on their mental conversation. Especially one as powerful as Klause.

  “Meet me in the catacombs when I leave here,” Zaureth sent back.

  Returning his attention to the king, Zaureth asked, “We cannot win, Sire. There are too many.”

  Klause’s face grew red with anger. “I will not run!”

  “I was not suggestion we run, Sire.”

  “Then what were you suggesting?” Klause questioned in a tight voice.

  Zaureth took a deep breath. “That I meet them halfway. If I take out their king and the front line, it will weaken them significantly. Perhaps enough that Aukrabah will stand a small chance at surviving.”

  Klause stared back at him in disbelief. “And what of you? What you speak of is suicide.”

  “Mayhap,” Zaureth softly replied. “But I would gladly give my life for my brothers, along with the innocent females and children that reside here…and my king.”

  The thought of dying in that Gulf and widowing his precious Amy was unthinkable to Zaureth. But if it came down to his life versus the hundreds of souls in Aukrabah, Zaureth would gladly die.

  In that moment, Zaureth shut his connection with Amy down completely. If she caught even the briefest hint of his thoughts, she would come running back to Aukrabah and into the arms of certain death.

  Klause’s voice brought Zaureth out of his sorrowful thoughts. “Sire?”

  “I said, no. I will not allow you to sacrifice your life for mine or anyone else residing here.”

  “But the children,” Zaureth began.

  The king held up a hand. “The females and young will be sent to the rooms near the entrance to Aukrabah. The human soldiers will see to their safety.”

  Zaureth nodded once. “And the rest?”

  “We will stay and fight.”

  Naura barged into the room as if everyone there hadn’t known she’d been standing outside listening. “You are sending the females to the surface? You think me not capable of fighting alongside the males?”

  Zaureth took that moment to slip unnoticed to the hall. The sounds of raised voices followed him back toward the catacombs.

  He took the steps down into the area Amy referred to as their den and dropped his weight into a chair.

  Amy… Her touch could be seen everywhere. She had taken his dwelling and made it into a home—a home that wasn’t the same without her there.

  An overwhelming feeling of pain overcame him in that moment. What if he died fighting the Arkadians? Amy would grieve herself to death. He’d sensed it in her innermost thoughts. How could he risk such a thing?

  His mind drifted to Arcanum, Regium, and Tauren, the king’s grandchildren, and to all the other young in Aukrabah. He couldn’t—no, he wouldn’t let them die. No matter what.

  “What kind of talk was that back there?”

  Zaureth had been so caught up in his thoughts, he hadn’t heard Gryke enter the catacombs.

  He pushed to his feet to face the bearded warrior. “It may be the only way to save the lives of our people.”

  “By sacrificing your own?” Gryke bit out. “Have you lost your wits?”

  Anger quickly replaced Zaureth’s sadness. “What do you suggest I do, Gryke? Remain here and allow our females to die? Our young? Because that is exactly what will happen if I do not head them off.”

  Gryke’s hands opened out to his sides. “We will find another way. There has to be another way.”

  “There is not.” Zaureth moved to the table and poured himself a glass of fresh water. “I wish there were.”

  “Then I go with you.”

  “As do I,” Vaulcron announced, Braum, Tony, Thrasher, Rykaur, Oz, and Hauk entering behind him.

  Hauke rested his hands on his hips. “If you go, we all go.”

  Zaureth gazed around at the somber faces of his brothers—brothers willing to risk their lives right alongside him. Any doubts he’d had about what he needed to do disappeared in an instant. They loved him, just as he loved them.

  Setting his drink down on the table, Zaureth shifted his attention to Anthony Vaughn. “You think to go into the Gulf to fight without the gills it takes to breathe in it?”

  The corner of Tony’s mouth lifted. “We have boats, dive gear, and automatic weapons. I ain’t afraid.”

  Zaureth shook his head, but his respect for the man grew exponentially.

  Pyre, Zyen, and Brant barreled into the room to stand with the others.

  And then, in came Syrina, Naura and Kaspyn, dressed in sharkskin attire with knives strapped to their legs. They made an intimidating picture, to be sure.

  Thrasher stiffened, cranked his head in the direction of Kaspyn, and growled low. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “What does it look like I am doing?” she shot back, her chin lifting. “I am fighting beside my mate.”

  Disbelief registered on Thrasher’s face. His next words were spoken softly through clenched teeth. “You’re pregnant.”

  “I realize that.” She moved deeper into the room, making her way toward a very pissed-off Thrasher. “And if I thought our child to be in danger, I would have gone to the surface with the others.”

  Thrasher briefly closed his eyes, as if attempting to calm himself. When he opened them, the anger still lurked in their inky depths. “There are at least a thousand Arkadians heading this way, looking for war. How can you not be in danger?”

  Her chin lifted another notch. “It matters not. Not one of them can touch me. Besides, my father would never allow any harm to come to me.”

  Determination steeled Thrasher’s gaze. “You don’t know that for sure. If good ole daddy was so concerned about your safety, he wouldn’t be bringing an army to rain hell down on Aukrabah.”

  “I do not understand your slang, Thrasher. But nothing you say will change my mind. They cannot touch me.”

  Thrasher opened his mouth to argue, but Zaureth interjected. “Kaspyn is right, my friend. They cannot touch her.”

  “How can you know that?” Thrasher growled, his anger steady growing.

  Zaureth held his gaze. “You know the power she possesses. She need not be involved in hand-to-hand combat. She will fight with her will…her mind.”

  Indecision flickered in Thrasher’s mind. He held out his hand to his mate, which she moved forward to accept.

  Blowing out a tense breath, Thrasher stated, “You will stay here and keep the women and children safe. Power or no power, I won’t allow you to be in the midst of the fighting.”

  Tony trailed over to Naura’s side. “Same goes for you. You’ll stay here in Aukrabah.”

  Naura simply nodded, but Zaureth wasn’t fooled by her meek response any more than Vaughn was, if his expression were any indication.

  “I mean it, Naura,” Tony reiterated, only to receive
the same meek nod.

  Syrina spoke up before Brant could say a word. “I am an Arkadian warrior. And as such, I will fight beside my mate.”

  Though Brant’s jaw tightened, he didn’t argue with her. Not outwardly, at any rate. Zaureth had a feeling they were mentally dueling behind the scenes.

  Zaureth cleared his throat to gain the attention of the room’s occupants.

  Once all gazes were on him, he announced, “We will fight at the entrance to the Pool of Enlightenment.”

  Everyone blinked.

  Zaureth had been considering the war scenario for days, and he’d come to the conclusion that fighting in the Gulf would leave Aukrabah defenseless. The females, the young…and his king.

  “The longer I think on it, the more I feel the entrance will be to our advantage. It’s a smaller space, which means the warriors cannot slip past to reach the interior.”

  Zyen stepped forward. “I am in agreement. It is the safest plan. To my knowledge, no one in Arkadia, besides Kaspyn, possesses the powers that she and you have. Which means, our warriors cannot penetrate Aukrabah if they have no way inside.”

  Zaureth held Zyen’s gaze for a moment before scanning the rest of the crowd. “Our mightiest warriors will accompany us to the entrance. Another band of fighters will gather in the west hall to destroy any who make it through.”

  Pyre nodded, stepping up to flank Zyen. “The east hall can accommodate up to thirty, but fifteen would be better. They will need room to fight if necessary.”

  “I agree,” Zaureth rumbled, gaining the attention of the room once more. “We will have fifty of our best fighters guarding the entrance, thirty in the west hall, and fifteen in the east. That will leave us approximately fifty more to guard our king.”

  “Nay,” Klause announced, entering the catacombs. “I will not cower in my quarters while my people are in battle.”

  “Sire,” Zaureth began, only to be cut off by his king.

  “I will not be swayed in this, Zaureth. If it is a fight Kryten is looking for, then a fight he will get.”

  Zaureth stared at Klause without blinking, saw the seriousness in his eyes. The king’s mind was made up. “If something happens to you—”

  “Then Vaulcron will take my place,” Klause interjected. “And if Vaulcron dies, Hauke will be king. Naura would be next in line. If we all perish, Arcanum will wear the crown when it is time, as he is the oldest. I will not argue with you in this. The crown is secure.”

  Zaureth sent Klause a respectful nod. Like it or not, he was the king of Aukrabah, and as such, his word was law. “Then let us make haste, for we are nearly out of time.”

  Chapter Eight

  A knock at Amy’s door startled her. She’d been sitting on the side of her bed, trying to connect with Zaureth, to no avail.

  She’d been on the surface for over a week—the longest week of her life without speaking with her mate.

  Why would he shut her out? Had the war begun? Was he injured…worse? No, Zaureth was alive. She would feel it if something had happened to him. Wouldn’t she?

  The knock came again, followed by a masculine voice. “Miss Brighton? Breakfast is ready. I’m here to escort you to the dining area, ma’am.”

  Amy pushed to her feet and carefully made her way to the door.

  Being blind, Amy had learned from an early age to memorize her surroundings. Not to mention, she could follow the sound of the man’s voice.

  She opened the door, lifting her arm as per the usual routine. The guards always guided her around the enormous house by the elbow.

  “How are you, ma’am?”

  Amy didn’t recognize the man’s voice. He hadn’t been assigned to her before. “I’m fine, thank you. Are you new here?”

  He made a humorous sound in the back of his throat. “No, ma’am. I’ve been doing this so long, I’ve seen five presidents come and go.”

  Amy relaxed, allowing him to carefully guide her along. “You must enjoy your job, to stay with it for so long.”

  “It’s definitely had its moments. But I’ll be retiring soon, and nothing sounds better than rippin’ lips with a cold beer in my hand.”

  “Rippin’ lips?” Amy had never heard the phrase.

  The guy chuckled. “Fishing, ma’am.”

  “I’ve never been fishing,” Amy admitted, still confused.

  Continuing to lead her along, he explained. “Fishing consists of a pole with a line hanging from it. On the end of that line is a hook. You bait the hook, usually with a worm or a cricket. Fish love worms and crickets. Anyway, they eat the worm, and the hook catches them through their lips.”

  “Hence the term rippin’ lips.” Amy inwardly cringed. “I get it now.”

  She realized she hadn’t caught the guy’s name. “It just dawned on me that I don’t know your name.”

  “Oh, I apologize. It’s Artimus Fiedor, but most people call me Artie.”

  Amy nodded her understanding. “It’s nice to meet you, Artie. Although I wish it were under different circumstances.”

  “Me too, ma’am. Me too.”

  Noting the gravely sound of his voice, Amy guessed him to be around sixty years old. Not to mention he’d talked about retiring soon.

  Artie gently tugged her to a stop, and the sound of a door opening could be heard.

  Several different voices floated up to greet her, including the cooing sounds of babies. She had arrived in the dining room.

  “I got her.” Mallory spoke softly somewhere to Amy’s left.

  Amy turned her head in that direction. “Any news of Aukrabah?”

  Her sister’s warm palm slid against Amy’s own. “Nothing as of yet. Seems the only one not completely cut off from their mate is Abbie. And she’s as tight as a virgin on prom night.”

  “Mallory!” Amy scolded, shocked that her sister would say such a thing in front of Artie. Then again, Mallory was the Great White Shark.

  “Sorry, I meant tight lipped,” Mallory whispered. “I’m just nervous. I hate not being able to communicate with Vaulcron.” She led Amy over to the table, apologizing to Artie over her shoulder.

  Artie merely chuckled, the sound of his laughter fading with the closing of the door.

  Once seated, Amy felt around for her napkin and placed it in her lap.

  Mallory kissed the top of her head, then murmured, “You have eggs, bacon, and toast on your plate.”

  Amy nodded her thanks and picked up her fork.

  She listened as the others discussed the coming war in Aukrabah. She could hear the worry and uncertainty in the women’s voices. She could relate. Worry ate at her insides like a cancer.

  Picking up a piece of bacon, she brought it to her lips to take a bite.

  A sharp, debilitating pain shot behind Amy’s eyes, along with a piercing light that momentarily paralyzed her.

  The bacon fell from her now trembling fingers, and she gripped the sides of her head in agony.

  “What is it?” everyone chorused at once, the sounds of chairs scraping against the floor ricocheting throughout the room.

  Amy couldn’t respond, so great was the pain.

  Had something happened to Zaureth and his mental barrier momentarily slipped?

  Being born blind, the only time Amy had seen light was through Zaureth’s eyes.

  Her heart began to hammer loud enough to drown out her sister’s worried voice. The pain behind her eyes began to vibrate until nausea found its way into her gut.

  Amy jumped from her chair so fast it toppled over behind her. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she staggered back a few steps.

  “I got you,” Mallory gasped, gripping her by the arm and leading her into the hall.

  That was as far as Amy could make it. She dropped to her knees and heaved uncontrollably.

  And just like that, the pain and blinding light left as quickly as it came.

  Amy shuddered with the last dry heave that ripped through her.

  “Here,” Mallory soothed, tucking
a piece of cloth into Amy’s hand. “Are you all right?”

  Accepting what felt like a napkin, Amy wiped her mouth, breathing through her embarrassment of nearly vomiting at the dining table. “I’m fine now, Mal. Thanks so much for your help.”

  Mallory assisted her to her feet. “What happened?”

  What had happened? Amy wondered, steadying herself. “I don’t know. One minute I was eating my breakfast, and the next, this god-awful pain exploded behind my eyes.”

  “What?” Mallory obviously tried to keep her panic at bay but failed miserably. “Like a migraine?”

  Amy swallowed around the last of the nausea easing from her throat. “Worse. But the weird thing was the burst of light.”

  Mallory brushed some of Amy’s hair back from her face. “A burst of light? Was it Zaureth?”

  “It had to be, Mal. He shut me out over a week ago. I haven’t heard a word from him since. Now, this? The pain and the light? He’s in trouble. I just know it.”

  Taking hold of Amy’s elbow, Mallory assured her, “I’ll find out what I can from Abbie. But first, let’s get you back to your room where you can wash your face and lie back down.”

  “Is everything all right, ladies?”

  Amy recognized Artie’s voice. “We’re fine. I just—”

  “Would you mind seeing my sister to her room, Mr. Fiedor?” Mallory blurted, cutting off the rest of Amy’s words. “She’s not feeling well and needs to lie down.”

  Amy wanted to strangle Mallory. But instead, she held out her arm in Artie’s direction before grinding out, “You will come tell me what you find out from Abbie, Mal. Immediately.”

  “Of course,” Mallory assured her, kissing Amy on the cheek. “I’ll be right there.”

  Artie remained quiet on the trip back to Amy’s quarters. He waited until he had her safely inside her room before speaking. “You look pale, Miss Brighton. Can I get you anything?”

  The soft, gentle way he spoke to her endeared him to Amy. She decided she liked Artimus Fiedor. “No, thank you, Artie. I’m just feeling a little under the weather. I’ll be fine.”

  Truth was, Amy was feeling more than a little under the weather. She felt terrified to her very core. That burst of light accompanied with that pain behind her eyes had scared her senseless. “Please answer me, Zaureth.” Silence.