Hex Breaker (The Fenearen Chronicles Book 1)

by Taryn Noelle Kloeden

  “Eight thousand? Infantry?” Thera asked.

  “Not all of them. That part ... doesn’t make sense.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Thera.

  “Cairn spoke of Da’ Gammorn–corpses brought to life. But the Da’ Gammorn are just a myth. Or so I had thought.”

  “The Da’ Gammorn.” Thera paced the den. “I never thought they could be real.”

  “What do you know of them, Thera? Is it true that they are corpses brought to life?”

  “True enough. Three hundred years ago, when Kalmor I was Overlord, a group of warriors descending from houses defeated by the Demetrians staged a coup. It was a bloody civil war, though a time of peace for the other three nations. The conflict ended when Kalmor surrounded and slaughtered the Resistance's most elite cavalry. He performed an ancient spell on them that possessed the bodies of the dead with demonic spirits brought from Razorn’s realm. Everyone thought it was just a story. If Kalmor really had such a force, why would he not use them? Some scholars said that Kalmor had already quashed the rebellion and was too old and frail to set his sights on Fenear. So he sealed them away for a worthy descendant to uncover. It seems that those scholars were right.”

  “How do we kill them?” Bayne raised his shaggy, black head. His eyes thinned as he stared at Thera. Rarely had Silver seen such rage cover her mate’s features. A different night, winters before, he had worn that look. It was the night she and Bayne had run away together, escaping her father’s plan for Silver to take Nero as mate. When Nero and Eron had found them, Silver thought that Bayne would have killed them both before he would be separated from her. She thanked the Goddess that it had not been necessary. When Eron had seen the ferocity with which Silver and Bayne loved one another, he had begrudgingly changed his mind. Now, many years later, Bayne’s eyes betrayed such fury, as though he planned to destroy the Maenoren army, Da’ Gammorn, and all, himself.

  Silver swallowed. “Cairn said head and heart.”

  Thera nodded. “The histories say that the magic was bound by a mark burned into the brain and the heart. If you destroyed one of those marks, then the demons would flee, leaving the body lifeless once more”

  “Head and heart.” Bayne moved to the mantel. His fingers ran through his hair. He tugged on his wrap, finding the third bead down, a painted green one he wore in Rayna's honor. “Did Cairn say whether or not this Resistance mentioned Rayna in their warning? Is she alive? Is Rhael using her as ransom, or bait?”

  Silver shook her head. “Cairn shared nothing about Rayna.” She turned to Thera. “Do you think Rhael knew after all, about Rayna and her dreams?”

  Thera heaved a sigh. “I cannot say. Perhaps he did, and sought to remove her, in case she foresaw his treachery. Now that we know his lies, there seems no other reason that he would risk coming here. The alliance, the treaty–all a ruse so he could take Rayna and surprise us with this attack.”

  “How could I have been so blind?” Bayne smashed his fist into the mantel, and it collapsed onto the hearth. “She’s dead, she’s dead because of me.”

  “We don’t know that!” Silver gripped his hands. “You said Rhael could be intending to use her. She could still be alive!”

  “Silver is right,” said Thera, “though I fear the same cannot be said for Channon.”

  Channon. In her grief over Rayna, Silver had forgotten that he had accompanied her. “That poor boy,” Silver whispered. If Channon were dead, Rayna, if she were still alive, would be suffering.

  “If Rhael were intending to use Rayna, would we not have heard from him by now? Silver, I want to hope, but what if she really is gone? She could have been dead for weeks. Rhael could have forced her to write those letters and–”

  “Alpha Bayne.” Thera crossed the den. She took his hand, and then Silver's. “The pack must be warned. We must head off this invasion and save as many lives as we can. I know you are heartbroken; I am, too. But there is no time to mourn, if she is indeed gone. If she does still live, then we must ensure that she has a home to which she can return.”

  Bayne and Silver were still and silent as Thera’s words washed over them. She was right. The pack needed them. Rayna would want them to be strong. As Silver tried to refocus, Bayne tensed. Without a word, he ran from the den.

  “Bayne!” Silver called. She and Thera rushed after him.

  Outside, Bayne howled. Fenearens and wolves howled to communicate over long distances, but the secondary purpose was simple: the haunting call expressed emotion as no word, verse, or song could.

  Bayne’s howl lamented the loss of everything for which he'd dreamed, loved, hoped, and fought, because it had been embodied in their niece, in her mother’s fire-red hair and father’s forest-green eyes. Loss has a singular melody, and its wrenching tune left Bayne's throat, flooding the forest. Silver halted, mesmerized by the terrible vocalization. Its meaning was clear: utter and complete failure. All the nearby Fenearens and True Wolves sprinted to the gathering area; even Nero’s ears were pinned down in fear. It seemed to last forever, and when Bayne’s mouth closed, the entire Southern Densite had assembled.

  A few moments later, Roxen, formed wolf, stood beside Bayne. What's happened? Roxen prodded Bayne’s shoulder.

  In the silence, Nero growled, regaining his cocky stature. Bayne, what is this? I am to lead a hunting party! Bayne gave no indication that he had heard Nero or Roxen. Bayne! Nero barked. What the Hell is this about?

  Bayne was still unresponsive, so Silver took control, speaking in Wolven so both Fenearens and Trues would understand.

  The alliance with Maenor is over. We are at war. Roxen, you must organize a party; the Northeastern Densite has been destroyed, and by now I suspect the Northern as well. There is a chance we can save the Eastern, Western, Southeastern, Southwestern and ourselves. We are evacuating everyone, bringing them here, and creating a stronghold together. We must unite.

  The pack was silent, but not from fear or shock. Every face was resolute and fierce. The ancient bond between packmates was almost visible. After Silver explained all they knew about Rhael's invasion force and the Da' Gammorn, Bayne raised his head.

  Gar, would you and your best wolves take messages to the Western Densite? Tell them that we are under attack, and we will be sending a force to protect them so that they can evacuate. I’ll send runners to the others, but you’re faster than any of us.

  Gar tapped two other wolves. The three Trues turned in unison and sprinted north.

  After they disappeared, Bayne formed human. “As for you, Nero, lead your party, salt all the meat you kill. We will not have much time for hunting in the coming days.”

  Nero's amber eyes challenged Bayne. Bayne walked forward until they stood a snout-length apart.

  “Do you have a question?” Bayne asked.

  “Rayna’s dead, isn’t she?” Nero smiled toothily, conveying his satisfaction.

  Silver snarled at Nero’s cruelty, but jerked when, without warning, Bayne lashed his extended claws into the soft flesh of Nero’s cheek. He tore away as quickly, and Nero, yelping in agony, scampered toward the hunting trails.

  Bayne looked at the shocked pack. “Hunters, go with him. A healer, too, for that cheek.” A handful of Fenearens followed Nero, and Bayne addressed the remaining pack.

  We will need places for refugees to sleep. Roxen, come with me. I want you to lead that relief force to the Western Densite by first light. Bayne stalked past the pack with Roxen following, picking strong warriors to help fight. Silver joined them as Thera formed and rushed to her son’s side.

  A golden True Wolf stepped forward, raising a paw. We will send our best fighters with Roxen.

  Bayne nodded and started to walk away, but turned back to the she-wolf. Thank you, Lark.

  She bowed, and Bayne continued down the ranks. Roxen followed behind, his fox-like tail trailing the mud. A sob choked Silver, but she let no sound escape and no tears fall. Her heart was broken, but there was no time to weep. The pack neede
d her to be strong.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Rayna collapsed onto the grass in her wolf form. She did not know how long she had been running. Too long. She suspected she had put at least ten leagues between herself and Anhorde. She extended her forelegs beneath her shoulders. With a grunt of pain, she stood, and with another, she collapsed again. Rayna shifted human, shrugging the pack from her shoulders. She could see the mountains separating the Peninsula from the Outers, the land mostly ruled by the mysterious Kyrean Republic. The Pass of Kiriathin cut through the range ahead of her.

  Rayna pulled out her leather waterskin and rested her head on the soft grass of the dark glen. A handful of leafless birches glowed white in the night, and there was thicker ground cover here than south of Anhorde. After a long drink she rolled out her sleeping sack, dragging it near some tall bracken. Reaching into her pack, she fumbled for her vial of sleeping draught, her stomach jumping into her throat. She had not thought to grab her medicine in all the confusion. She turned out the sack to be sure. Perhaps Coer had packed some. Out came the oversized knife, her spare set of clothing, a sleeping sack, a bundle of cloth bandages, a rue-treated weapons' belt, a flint and tinder box, a smaller pouch containing salted meat, and a wooden chest the size of her palm. Hands shaking, she unclasped the lid, peering inside. There was no sleeping draught, but still, to her relief, a handful of carved bone beads rolled around the bottom of the chest. Rayna could not believe she had forgotten about her hair-wrap and felt a dizzying rush of affection and gratitude for Coer, chased by fear. Would Coer make it out of Anhorde alive? Would she ever see him again?

  She wiped her tears and realized there was something else in the box. The beads scattered across a folded slip of parchment. Rayna removed the note and read.

  Rayna,

  I am sorry I could not accompany you on your journey to save your friend. I know this will offer little consolation now that you are alone, but please believe that this was not our plan. We had hoped to join with Fenear before the Overlord’s attack and send you north with an armed battalion. We ran out of time.

  I did not pack your sleeping medicine. This was not an oversight. It is imperative to your mission that you allow yourself to dream, to be what you were meant to be, a seer. Only then can you travel to the Eye of Heaven and save your friend. Once you reach the mountain, the divine magic flowing through your veins will give you the chance to save him, but only if you embrace your powers. I know you have questions; the Resistance had hoped to answer them. One day, if the gods are kind, you and I may meet again and I will explain everything. If not, then the Resistance leader will find you, and you will understand.

  Good luck, Rayna. Channon is blessed to have you. Save him, and perhaps you may save us all.

  Your friend,

  Coer Vantergard

  Coer was right. She did have questions. Thera had said the dreams had driven Rayna's ancestor insane, that her mother had been plagued with horrifying visions she had no power to change. What possible use could this curse be to Channon? Now that she had no choice but to dream, what terrible things would she see? Fear spread through her like smoke, dulling her already exhausted senses. But even as she worried, some small, brave voice whispered to her. Her first dream had shown her the Eye of Heaven. It had seemed meaningless then, but now she knew traveling to that cold mountain where the veil between realms was thinnest was the only way to save Channon. After that, she had seen Alvo, who had warned her amid the sickening carrion smell: “They will be risen.”

  Rayna straightened with a jolt, nearly knocking the chest from her lap. She now understood Alvo's warning. She'd been given a message about the Da’ Gammorn, the terrible creatures Rhael had raised, the weapon that had allowed him to outmaneuver the Resistance and attack her homeland. Might she have seen more visions had she not taken the potion? Could she have foretold Rhael’s treachery? With another shiver, Rayna realized she had. When Rhael had kissed her, he'd thrown her into a living nightmare. She had listened to Lumae and Alvo’s warning then, but it had been too late. She had seen Channon crying out in agony, Silver covered in blood, Bayne falling to his knees. Already one of those visions had come to pass.

  Thera and her mother had tried to protect her when they'd kept Rayna from her dreams. She could not fault them. But now there were more important matters at stake. She did not fully understand how her abilities could save Channon, but she trusted Coer when he said they were key. Despite her fear, Rayna knew what she had to do. Sniffing the air to ensure no one pursued her, she crawled inside her sleeping sack. As her eyelids weighted, she repeated Alvo’s and Lumae’s names, calling to them for help.

  “I know you’re scared,” Alvo said, looking down the dizzying height of the mountain. “But you do not have to do this alone.” He squeezed her hand.

  Rayna braced against the bitter cold. In the distance, the screaming darkness waited, but Alvo held it at bay. “I don't understand this. Sometimes I see terrible visions. Other times you speak to me directly. How can this help Channon?”

  Alvo turned, cupping her face in his hands. “Kin of my love, answers or outcomes worth having do not happen easily. I am but a guide, unable to pass into your world except through dreams and whispers of a forgotten past. But there are those in your world who will help you if you let them.”

  Inhaling sharply, Rayna found herself once again beside the bracken. She sat up. The dark blue sky reflected a few lingering stars as Rayna stretched.

  She scented the currents. A strange smell caught her attention. She crouched, taking another tentative whiff. The distinct scents of blood, horses, and carrion mixed together. Another unsettling scent appeared, too: dogs.

  Coer's words echoed in Rayna’s mind. The Da’ Gammorn, the ‘glorious dead’, are the most terrible weapons. Commanded by the Overlord alone, they don't know mercy, pain, or fear. Only blood and the frenzy of war.

  “Da’ Gammorn.” Rayna bit her lip. Had Rhael sent them after her? The dogs would track her, leading the undead warriors straight to her. She pulled together her pack and slung it on her back. Crawling into the dark glen, she rested her ear against the ground. The sound was unmistakable. Hoofbeats. Four horses, one, perhaps two, leagues away. Forming mid-stride, she raced toward the Pass of Kiriathin.

  She reached a creek ten tail-lengths wide, preparing to ford it, but another idea hit her. Turning, she ran alongside the creek, leaving tracks for a while before leaping into the waters. Perhaps they would think she headed for Soulous. She swam against the current until she spotted a rocky area on the far bank. She jumped onto the hard ground that took no prints and doubled back toward the Pass. As she approached, keeping to the shadows, the wind carried the sound of the baying hounds and the scent of rotting flesh. The Da’ Gammorn were closing in. Either she had wasted valuable time by laying the false trail, or they would be fooled while she escaped.

  As the howls and barks drew closer, accompanied by hoofbeats, Rayna sought a hiding place. She formed human, pulling up into a pine tree. The strong scent of sap and pinecones disguised her presence. Once concealed by the veil of needles, Rayna waited, breathing as little as possible.

  Not long afterward, a pack of dogs pursued by four horsemen crested the dark horizon. The pine fragrance was strong, but the revolting scent of rotting flesh stronger. It burned her nose and eyes. The dogs reached the creek first, tails high and waving, long noses sliding along the grass and mud. Their masters caught up, their horses rearing as the hounds scented along the bank, whining.

  In the dim predawn light, Rayna could see the Da’ Gammorn through the curtain of pine needles. They were tall, dressed in armor that absorbed light rather than reflected it. Acid rose in her throat at her first glimpse. Each had bits of flesh—lips, noses, or cheeks—missing from their sunken faces. They were like melted wax models of men, and yet they moved with precision and grace as they dismounted and searched the bank for signs of her. One drew an enormous broadsword, gesturing downriver as the dogs trotted al
ongside the current. Her pulse beat behind her ears. Would she be so fortunate?

  To her relief, the Da’ Gammorn mounted their horses while the dogs charged downstream toward the Soulousian border. She waited until they were well out of view before jumping from the tree and returning to the narrow Pass entrance. The blue night grew lighter, but the mountains obscured the sunrise. With one last look at the country where she was to have been queen, Rayna stepped into the shadowy Pass of Kiriathin.

  The Pass was six tail-lengths wide, but sometimes the sheer walls of the mountains closed in tightly, forcing Rayna to squeeze through cracks and scramble over boulders. She remembered Thera's history lessons about the Pass of Kiriathin. Following the Kyrean Conquest of Osterna, the Kyreans had pursued the four exiled nations into the Peninsula. When they had reached the great waters, the Guardian of the southern seas, a creature that took many forms depending on the story, had destroyed their fleet. So the Kyreans tried the Pass of Kiriathin, the only way to reach Osterna Sud by land. This was before Rhael’s family had turned Maenor against the other nations, so Fenear, Maenor, Alvorn, and Soulous had fought as one. Despite being vastly outnumbered, the four nations had slaughtered the Kyreans as they marched through the narrow Pass single-file. After that defeat, the Kyreans did not try to conquer the nations again.

  Rayna dug her boots into the black, volcanic sand covering the ground, gazing at the cliff faces on either side. She imagined them coated in blood and broken bodies. Shaking the image from her mind, she hurried on. As she hopped the boulders, she noted the winds blowing south. There would be no early warning if the Da’ Gammorn approached. She had to move quickly.

  As the day wore on, Rayna pushed her exhausted body onward until she nearly slept on her feet. Ahead, a thin boulder leaned against a smaller one. With the cliff at its back, it created an alcove. She sniffed it and, satisfied it was not already occupied, crawled inside. Part of her wanted to continue; after all, did her pursuers need sleep? But if they caught up and she had to fight, she must not be weakened by exhaustion.