Hex Breaker (The Fenearen Chronicles Book 1)

by Taryn Noelle Kloeden

  Morna stirred. She sat up, stroking her palm across her forehead and hair like a preening cat. She rose, pulling a crimson robe about her shoulders. Rhael did not go to her, so she came to him, draping herself about his neck. She looked at their reflection and smiled.

  “You seem happy, my lord.” Morna's lips touched his neck. He pivoted so she could fall into his arms.

  “I am happy. Today will be a wonderful day.” He kissed her.

  “Why is that, my lord?” Morna traced her finger along his chest.

  “Because, today I kill my betrothed. Today I baptize the Fenearen peace treaty with the blood of Bayne’s beloved niece and heir. Today, I ensure the destruction of Councilor Terayan's so-called twice blessed seer. It has been difficult to resist killing her these past three weeks. I knew your instincts as a seer had led us to the right girl, but the Councilor had to be assured. Now that the Da’ Gammorn are risen and in my power, and Amblin promises the Council and the Kyrean Republic are behind me, the time is finally ripe.”

  “You have a busy day. For the benefit of the Maenoren public and the Fenearens, what heinous crime has the wretch dared commit?”

  “Treason, of course. I assigned her a handsome guard for a reason. No one will be surprised that I found them in bed together. A pity that the treaty should be broken so quickly, but we must retaliate for this grievous insult. First, a public execution, and then a war unlike all those before.”

  “Perfect,” Morna whispered into his ear.

  Feverish knocking brought Rayna to her chamber's door. She opened it to see Coer's flushed face. “Coer? What is it?”

  “It’s Rhael!” Coer whispered, fear and anger in his gaze. He closed the door and relocked it.

  “What's happening?” Rayna asked.

  “Rayna. He means to execute you. Today.”

  Rayna stepped back. “What? How do you know?”

  “The Resistance. Rhael isn’t the only mage in Anhorde. We were right, Rayna. The alliance, the wedding–a ploy. All so Rhael could take you from your family, break the alliance between Alvorn and Fenear, and destroy Bayne and Silver along with the false peace treaty. We thought he would’ve waited until the wedding for his next step. But he had other motives, a bargain with the Kyrean Republic we didn’t know about until you told me of Councilor Terayan and the Laevuls.” He strode to the wardrobe, yanking out a pair of her Fenearen leggings and a doeskin shirt. He threw a cloth pack from his cloak onto her bed. “Put these clothes on, and then fill this with more of them. I’ve already put in some bread, water, and salted meat.” He turned toward the wall and Rayna obeyed. Despite her fear, a rush of relief washed over her as she slipped back into her Fenearen clothing.

  Coer turned back to her. “And this.” He placed an oversized, curved knife in the bag. “I know you're always armed, but just in case.”

  As soon as she was packed Coer grabbed her arm and the bag. “Come.” He led her from the room.

  “We only have a short time,” Coer whispered as they ran down the stairs. “We’ve created a disturbance in the courtyard so you can get out the north gate. Rhael has not announced your treason yet.”

  “Treason? Did he find my letter?”

  “No, your letter is safe in the hands of the Resistance leader, thank the gods. Rhael plans to tell the people you broke the treaty, anyway. He's concocted some foul story which he will share with the people. Then, he'll execute you and invade Fenear.”

  They reached the front hall, and as calmly as possible, walked to the gate. The guards did not stop them, and Coer led them into the back sculpture garden.

  “We have enough supplies to make it to Fenear,” Rayna whispered to him as they disappeared into the bushes.

  “You can't go to Fenear, Rayna.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s what Rhael will expect, and besides, you’ll never make it.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I–”

  “Rayna, listen to me!” He gripped her shoulders, and Rayna saw true fear reflected in his blue gaze. For one heartbreaking moment, she remembered another pair of blue eyes widening in terror. “Rhael did something terrible. Until last night, we had believed the Da’ Gammorn destroyed when Rhael’s ancestor Kalmor had been killed, but we were wrong.”

  Rayna stared at him. “What are Da' Gammorn?” The phrase was familiar, perhaps from a scary story she had heard as a child?

  “A thousand Riders of Anhorde–at least they were once. Three hundred years ago when Rhael’s ancestor Kalmor became Overlord, these riders stood against him in the Resistance’s first attempted rebellion. He ordered them and their families slaughtered. It was genocide.” He led her through the garden, over a brook, and pulled her behind a granite boar as a pair of sentries passed.

  “Then,” Coer whispered, “Kalmor performed an ancient ceremony on their bodies called the Aetolo Avemn. Using the blood of their families, he called up thousands of demons from the Mouth of Hell. The bodies of the dead became hosts, and the souls of the men were trapped in Hell forever.”

  Rayna gasped before she could stifle her horror. Once their path was clear, they crossed to the iron gate that opened onto the farmland and sparse forests north of the palace.

  Coer unlocked the gate with a screech. He flinched and ushered her through hurriedly. “After Kalmor's death,” he continued as they ducked behind a hedge, “the Resistance thought the demons gone, but Rhael rediscovered them and the spell that calls them forth. Now the Da’ Gammorn, the ‘glorious dead’, are his most terrible weapons. Commanded by the Overlord alone, they don't know mercy, pain, or fear. Only blood and the frenzy of war. They’re more powerful than you could imagine. An image of their leader can appear anywhere in the world, and they can possess other dead bodies they find—animals, humans—for short periods of time. To kill them, you must sever the Da' Gammorn's head or destroy its heart, nothing less will stop them.”

  “That's terrible, Coer, but I don't understand why this means I can't go home!”

  “They're heading toward Fenear right now, Rayna! You could never get past them. Even if you did, after your treason is announced, Rhael will bring thousands of foot soldiers to Fenear. Going home now will get you killed and won’t be of any use to Fenear. The Resistance has already sent falcons to the Northern and Northeastern Densites, warning them of attack. Your letter will further serve as proof of our allegiances when we are able to escape and join with the Fenearens.” He peered over the hedge. “Besides, there is something else you can do.”

  “What is it?”

  “Seperun received word from our mage. You can break the Sionic Hex and save Channon.”

  Relief and anticipation shook her voice. “Tell me.”

  Coer glanced over his shoulder; the commotion in the courtyard was dwindling. “There's not much time. Seperun discovered a scroll in the secret library of Anhorde. The mage deciphered it. It speaks of an ancient spell in which the first step is the enactment of the Sionic Hex. Rhael lied when he said he could break it. Breaking the hex and delivering an innocent from perdition involves traveling to the Eye of Heaven–the mountain in the Sylrian Provinces where the veil between the realms is thinnest. Only certain individuals can accomplish this,” he eyed her speculatively, “including a seer.”

  Rayna did not waste time asking how he knew about seers, or that she might be one. The Resistance mage must have figured it out. “I can't risk Channon's fate on myths, Coer.”

  “It isn't a myth, and it is the only way to save him. You've trusted me until now, trust me again. All hope is not lost for your friend.”

  Rayna inhaled, determination filling her. “All right, let's go.” Rayna tugged on Coer's arm, but he did not move.“Coer! You can’t stay here!”

  “I have to. I’ll slow you down. We both know you can double my speed.”

  “No.”

  “Rayna,” he pointed to the wilderness past the farms and the mountain range looming beyond it, “go now or Channon will be lost to you forever!”
/>
  “But Rhael will know you helped me. He’ll kill you!”

  “I’ll be fine. Please, go!”

  “I can't do this alone, Coer.”

  “Yes, you can, Rayna. You’re stronger than you realize.”

  Rayna could not hesitate any longer. It broke her to leave Coer behind, but she could not abandon Channon. Nor would she abandon Fenear. Once Channon was safe, she would return home, no matter the danger. She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Thank you.”

  Coer embraced her, kissing her forehead. “Rayna Myana, it was an honor being your friend. Goodbye, and may the Father's light shine upon you.”

  Rayna transformed. Coer tied her bag of supplies onto her back. She cast one final, thankful look at him before sprinting from the bushes, leaving behind her only friend for leagues.

  Coer watched Rayna disappear with a heavy heart. He rose from the bushes, walking back to the gate. He crossed through the field of statues, stopping to view his favorite—a marble foxhound—and returned to the palace. As he reached the door, it fell open in front of him. A deadly strong grip squeezed his throat, and the Overlord’s form appeared.

  “Where is she?” Rhael demanded.

  “Who, my lord?” Coer gasped for air.

  “The Fenearen! Your charge!” The Overlord pushed Coer against the wall.

  “I do not know, my lord.”

  “He’s lying.” Morna appeared beside Rhael with several guards. “These men saw him with her, heading out here.”

  “Tell me where she is!” Rhael bellowed as he slammed Coer's head against the hard stone.

  “No,” Coer said with as much defiance as he could muster.

  “You’re a part of that pathetic Resistance, aren’t you?”

  “I don't know what you're talking about.”

  “We'll see about that.”

  Coer palmed a single capsule in his pocket. He would not compromise the Resistance. Their movement was more important than one life, even his own. Rayna had escaped. That was what mattered.

  “Poro Ajo Rex.” Coer's last words, as his father's had been, were the motto of the Resistance. Before Rhael could stop him, Coer swallowed the lethal tablet.

  “You fool.” The Overlord grabbed him by the collar as Coer's lungs seized. Pain poured into his chest, filling every corner of his body. He tried to scream, but there was no air. Darkness crept over his vision, and everything went numb.

  Rhael released his grip, and the corpse folded onto the ground.

  “Pity. Does he have family?” Rhael asked.

  “I–I do not think so, my lord,” one of the guards answered.

  “How many men are in his regiment?”

  “Nine others, my lord,” Morna answered.

  “Have them executed for treason and bring this,” he kicked the body at his feet, “to my crypt. I may have use for it.”

  “Use, my lord?” Morna asked.

  Rhael smiled as he studied the traitor's bloated, purple face. “Experiments require subjects, Miss Helena.” He motioned them away.

  Once Morna and the men had left carrying the guard’s body, Rhael whispered the name of the Da’ Gammorn commander to the still morning air.

  He blinked, and Negiol stood before him. The creature's oily black eyes surveyed him. Its head twitched to one side in an insectoid manner.

  “You called?” The voice was soft, yet Rhael could hear raw power threading it. He stared in awe. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Yes, it disgusted him, with the flesh peeling from its tall frame, its gray skin, and that sickening smell. But it was permanent. Unlike every other wretched thing in the world, this being would always be the same.

  “The Fenearen girl has complicated matters. I need you to capture her.”

  The Da’ Gammorn smiled, or would have if it had proper lips.“Kill her, too?”

  Rhael contemplated that. “No, I would rather have that privilege. However, do whatever it takes to capture her. Injury is acceptable, even preferable.”

  “We understand.”

  “Send four of your kind you left stationed near Anhorde, but I want you focused on Fenear. How far are you into the campaign?”

  “We await your command five leagues from the border. Our progress is slow because we must wait for your living soldiers.”

  “A necessary step. I suppose politics are beyond your expertise. I will announce Rayna's treason, and subsequent execution during attempted escape today. No one else need know that she still lives, not when that will soon change. Once I make the announcement, I will mobilize the infantry.”

  Negiol bowed its head. “Yes, Overlord.”

  “She's Fenearen,” Rhael reminded, “red hair, tall frame. She cannot be far; she has just escaped out the north gate.” Negiol nodded again, twitching to one side before its transported image flicked away, leaving nothing more than an odor of rotting flesh.

  Part II

  The Runaway Queen

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gar trotted toward the Southern Densite. As Alpha of the southern True Wolf pack, he rarely had time to hunt himself, and he missed the thrill of it. But he had spotted an elk herd that morning and hoped to find other hunters to help. They would need a large party; only Rayna and Channon could have taken one of those beasts down by themselves. Now they were gone. Gar didn't know when he would see either again.

  As he walked, the changing winds brought an unsettling scent. He turned and sniffed the currents. Blood. Sickness. Fear. Gar abandoned his search, sprinting toward the smell. He heard labored panting just as he spotted a familiar wolf.

  Cairn! He halted, lying next to the chestnut she-wolf. Cousin, what happened to you? he whined, sniffing her over. The rot. The sickly smell flooded his nostrils. He investigated her wounds, finding the source of the sour scent. A long gash on her side oozed a thick black film. Cairn, you need Fenearen medicine! he cried.

  No Gar–too late. Cairn groaned, her breath wet and rattling. M-message for the Alphen.

  Gar tilted his head, howling for help. He turned back to Cairn. Don't try to speak.

  Rotten flesh ... everyone ... dead. Cairn's feverish speech continued as Gar tried to quiet her. Several shallow breaths later, Silver, in her human form, crested a nearby hill followed by a wolf-formed healer, Jaline.

  Gar, what's going on? Who is this? Silver asked.

  My cousin, she has the rot, but… He did not finish his thought. Silver's horrified face reflected her understanding.

  Jaline sniffed Cairn. How did this happen? This wound has been festering for days.

  Cairn had fallen still and silent, but at their words her rheumy eyes shot open. Maenorens attacked. She coughed up more black film. A falcon—Maenoren Resistance—Markus Seperun–warned us, but not enough ... time.

  Silver's mouth fell open. No...

  Cairn winced as Jaline took her human form and examined her wound. Jaline turned to Silver. A sword slash, I'm sure of it. Much larger than the usual Maenoren broadswords, though.

  Da' Gammorn. Cairn winced, blood seeping from her nostrils. Rotting ... too many.

  Silver's sympathetic gaze met Gar's before flitting back to Cairn. The more the she-wolf spoke, the quicker she would die. But they needed answers. Da' Gammorn, are you certain? How many? Where were they headed?

  Cairn wheezed, nuzzling against Gar's chest. Yes. Too many—soldiers and Da' Gammorn ... four to one. Southwest to the Northern Densite. Black filth and blood trickled from her mouth. Another escaped to warn them but so close ... not enough time. But the Western— A cough wracked her.

  Alphena. Jaline shook her head. She gathered the barely breathing Cairn into her arms and Gar stood. We should take her to the True Wolf dens, so she can start the journey alongside her kin.

  Silver nodded. Thank you, Cairn, and... She blinked back tears. I'm sorry.

  Head and heart! Cairn yelped suddenly. Only way—Da' Gammorn. Head and heart! She slumped in Jaline's arms.

  Silver sped back toward the Densite
as Gar hurried alongside Jaline toward the True Wolf dens. He'd never seen his cousin look so small, not since they had been pups. He whispered comfort, reminding Cairn of their youth together. They reached the sycamore where Gar made his den, but as the healer lowered Cairn to the mossy ground, it was clear she was already gone.

  “Bayne!” Silver burst into their den.

  Bayne and Thera looked up. “What’s wrong, dove? Gar sounded upset.”

  “Those liars! We should have known! Damn it, Bayne!” Silver’s breath heaved, and she felt light-headed. She collapsed.

  “Silver!” Bayne caught her, lowering her onto their pallet. Thera rushed to her side, laying her hand across her forehead.

  “I’m not ill!” Silver shoved them away and sat up.

  “Silver, what is going on?” Bayne's normally composed features were etched with lines. He was not used to seeing her lose control. She had not meant to worry him, but the shock still rolled through her.

  “Rhael,” she said as she accepted a cup of water from Thera.

  “Rhael?” Bayne’s clipped voice cut like flint. “What has he done? Is Rayna all right?”

  “I…” Silver trailed off, taking a sip. Bayne’s black eyes pleaded with her as Thera clapped a hand over her mouth. “A cousin of Gar's from the Northeastern Densite arrived with a message. She was dying, but from what I could understand, they were warned of an imminent attack by a Resistance working against the Demetrian regime. But it came too late.”

  “That cannot be right. If Rhael breaks trust, all lands south of Igar’s Way are forfeit. He will–”

  “Rhael has no intention of honoring the treaty, Alpha Bayne.” Thera spoke at last, her voice grave but steady. “What else did Gar’s cousin say? How was she injured?”

  Thera's calm transferred to Silver with her words. “Maenorens attacked, heading southwest, but Cairn did not exactly know how many. She said they outnumbered their forces four to one, so around eight thousand?”