Hex Breaker (The Fenearen Chronicles Book 1)

by Taryn Noelle Kloeden

  Rayna leaned away from the forward stranger. “What makes you think I would tell you anything?” She stabbed a piece of meat with her fork.

  “Wow.” He laced his hands behind his head. His sleeves fell back farther, and Rayna could see more of his tattoos. The runes looked similar to the ancient Fenearen script on Thera’s scrolls. She could not fathom how that could be. The man shook his head. “In all honesty, your reaction is not the one I’m used to. But talking is not where I excel. Shall I show you what I'm really good at?”

  “What’s wrong with you?” Rayna shouted as she stood, keeping the table between them–for his protection more than hers.

  He raised his hands. “All right, all right. My mistake. It's just as well.” He cleared his throat. “Look, I’m sorry. Please sit down. I didn't mean to insult you. See, hands on the table. I just want some company, okay, Red?”

  “My name isn’t Red.” She narrowed her gaze.

  “What is it, then?”

  “It's pathetic that you think I'd tell you.”

  “You wound me.”

  Rayna rolled her eyes just as the entire tavern erupted into whoops and whistles. She followed the general surge of attention to the stage at the back of the room.

  “Is that your friend?” the man in black asked.

  Rayna nodded.

  “Then there's definitely enough of me to go around.”

  Mina grinned and waved as she took center stage, wearing nothing but a black corset and leggings.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rhael walked through the charred remains of the Fenearen settlement, ash swirling around him like snow. Bodies littered the Densite. Maenorens, wolves, Fenearens–there was no discerning them, folded among each other as they were. They had set up camp several leagues upwind of the Western Densite because of the smell, but he toured his latest field of victory nonetheless. Morna stepped through the corpses and ruins with her hands over her nose. Once she reached him, Rhael handed her his handkerchief.

  “Thank you, my lord.” She buried her face in the golden silk.

  “This makes three Densites destroyed by the infantry and Da' Gammorn. It has almost been too simple.”

  Morna leaned her head against his arm. “No one else could have done this, Rhael. For six hundred years, the Overlords of Maenor have tried to defeat the Fenearens, but not one ever could. Until now. Your name will live on as the greatest Overlord Maenor has ever known.”

  Rhael slid his arm around her waist. “Let us not get ahead of ourselves, dearest. The Southern Densite is more highly populated than any of the others, and my scouts report that all remaining Fenearens have joined Bayne at his stronghold. The element of surprise is gone.”

  “Have you had any word from Councilor Terayan? Will the Kyrean Republic send reinforcements as promised?”

  Rhael's jaw hardened. “I haven't informed Terayan of our complication regarding his seer. I had hoped to contact him with good news once the Da' Gammorn had secured her, but it has been some time. He is likely wondering. Even if he does renege on his offer of reinforcements, I secured the most important elements and raised the Da’ Gammorn.”

  “My lord, forgive me, but I must ask. When Terayan asked you to find and kill the Fenearen seer, did he ever say why? From what I saw, the girl was nothing special. What threat could she have posed to him?”

  “He never said, despite my questioning. Terayan is as powerful a mage as they come, though. I suspect he has intentions for her blood. A seer's lifeblood is necessary for many powerful enchantments, and he did request that I preserve the body and send it to him. Now my dear, you have suffered this unbearable stench long enough. Run back to camp and have the servants draw us a hot bath. I will be along presently.”

  Morna bowed. “Yes, Lord Rhael.”

  After his courtesan had left, Rhael considered his next move. Morna had brought up an important point. He needed to update Terayan soon. Between the Maenoren army, the Da' Gammorn, and his hired Corsair mercenaries, Rhael thought he might defeat Bayne's forces. But he was not a man who acted on mights. With the addition of Terayan's three thousand Kyreans, he would be unstoppable.

  “Negiol,” Rhael said into the empty air. He blinked, and the Da' Gammorn commander stood before him.

  “Overlord.”

  “Where are you?”

  The decaying body scanned its surroundings. “We are about twenty leagues east of you. We are close enough to the Southern Densite to possess the bodies of dead animals in the area, so we will soon know how many wolfkind we have left to slaughter.”

  Rhael nodded. He had little information on the number of Fenearens who had escaped to the Southern Densite. He planned to use the Da’ Gammorn to discover how many warriors Bayne had left. Wars were won with swords and knowledge, and his Da’ Gammorn provided both.

  “My men tell me you possessed not only the bodies of the dead, but of the wolves fighting alongside the Fenearens. How was this possible when they were still alive?”

  “We cannot possess the body of a creature formed by their False God, Wolnor, unless the soul is fled, but wolves, Lord Rhael, bear the mark of both the False God and the Lord Razorn.”

  Rhael smiled as his gaze swept across the Fenearen corpses, many of whom were savaged by their own allies. “What fools they are to fight alongside such beasts. How long will you have dominion over them?”

  “The animal possession spell is not bound by blood, so the hold does not last long. They hunted their brethren many leagues south before our influence was broken. They will awaken soon. We could send riders to dispatch them.”

  Rhael flexed his gloved fist. “No. The Fenearens would be fools to use them again. Let the creatures live knowing what they have done.”

  “As you wish, Lord Rhael.”

  “Tell me, have your riders captured my bride yet?”

  Negiol's head twitched as its image flickered. “The girl has proven difficult. Our riders had to traverse the swamplands to pursue her. We have not heard from them since then.”

  Rhael frowned. “The swamplands? She reached Drownman Swamp? How is this possible?”

  “Wolves are faster than horses, Lord Rhael.”

  Rhael exhaled a low hiss. “Is that so? Locate your riders and remind them failure is not an option if they wish to remain on this plane.”

  “We will find them, Lord Rhael.” Without another word, the Da' Gammorn's shade was gone, and Rhael was alone, save for the dead. He knew what to do next. He needed blood, but he was in the middle of a battlefield.

  Rhael slipped his glove from his left hand, exposing a golden ring inlaid with an impressive, red garnet. Rhael knelt by the first body he saw, a Fenearen man missing his throat, and twisted the stone into the dried blood caking the man's dead, alabaster skin. Dried blood was less potent, but would do for a minor spell. Moments later, the garnet glowed a subtle rose color.

  Choosing his words with precision, Rhael whispered, “Councilor Terayan, the initial invasion of Fenear has gone better than anticipated. All but one settlement is under Maenoren control. Once the Corsairs and your promised three thousand swords arrive, we will be unbeatable. However, there has been one small misstep. The Fenearen seer you wanted has escaped. Her last known location was near Drownman Swamp. I have dispatched a force to return her to me so I may kill her as promised. I will inform you as soon as she is dead.”

  Rhael wiped the blood from the gemstone, waiting. Several silent minutes passed until the ring glowed red again.

  Rhael brought the garnet to his ear. A voice, honeyed with confidence and crackling with strength, whispered from the stone.

  “Lord Rhael. I am displeased to learn of your failure, but, I am not without patience. Your three thousand soldiers are en route. I am also sending the captain of my personal guard and his best men to find Rayna Myana, lest she escape you again. But heed me, Rhael Demetrian, a second failure will not go unpunished.”

  Rhael ground his teeth. He'd deal with Terayan's idle threats
later. For now, he needed the arrogant Kyrean leader's aid. Why the man was so obsessed with Rayna's demise, Rhael could only guess. A seer’s lifeblood contained a great deal of magical energy a skilled mage could bend to his own purposes. Rhael assumed Terayan hoped to accomplish some great magic with Rayna’s lifeblood, though did not know for certain.

  But Rhael was determined to see the girl dead for his own satisfaction. No one dared stand up to the Overlord of Maenor and survive.

  Bayne sat upon a moss-coated rock where only a month ago his niece had rested. He crumpled the letter from Rhael that had arrived by falcon that morning and tossed it to the ground. Rayna’s red hair and emerald eyes haunted his thoughts. Bayne understood why Rayna had gone with Rhael. It had been for him. He'd desperately wanted peace with Maenor, and because of him, she had believed it was possible. She was like her father, always looking out for others while not watching her own back. It had gotten Aquillo killed, too. He slammed his fist on the rock, relishing the pain. For his sake, she was dead. Rhael’s letter had detailed her alleged treason and subsequent execution. He wanted to believe it was not true, but he did not see how Rayna could have escaped. Not when he had delivered her into the arms of death himself. The only thing he had ever done for Aquillo and Mya was to raise their precious daughter as his own. Now he had failed them even in that.

  He searched the faces that passed him. So many Fenearens were cramped into this final refuge. The Southern Densite normally housed six thousand, though now over ten thousand Fenearens and Trues packed it like starlings. Most of their prey were hibernating or had migrated for the winter. Their food stores would not last long with so many mouths to feed. That was his fault, too. He was Alpha. The pack was his responsibility, and he had let them down, none more so than Roxen and Gar. When they and the few dozen Fenearens who had escaped the Western Densite had stumbled home, he had known they would never be the same. It had taken a half day, after Thera and her healers had tended to their wounds, until Roxen and Gar could discuss what had happened. They had been prepared to be outnumbered, prepared to die, prepared to face the undead beasts Cairn had warned of. But they had not been prepared for the Da’ Gammorn, to turn the True Wolves, their own brothers and sisters, against them.

  Thera and Silver rounded the fire pit, coming toward him, faces grim with worry and exhaustion.

  Thera spoke first. “Silver and I, along with some healers, have been combing my scrolls for any more information on the Da' Gammorn. Besides the history I shared with you, there is nothing. I cannot understand what my son described. How could they control the bodies of the dead as well as those of the living wolves? Why was Gar spared when no other Trues were?”

  “Roxen and Gar said the wolves were not themselves,” said Silver. “It was like they had gone rabid. What if they don't come out of it? What if we never see them again?”

  Bayne stood. “We won’t have answers until we determine how the Da' Gammorn managed it. We have to keep looking. I'll write to Pheros. He may be unwilling to trade with us or fight alongside us anymore, but perhaps he will not begrudge us information on Da’ Gammorn possession of other creatures, if he has any.”

  “Alpha Bayne. Alphena Silverine.” A high, trembling voice turned all three Fenearens toward a young girl. She was a few winters younger than Rayna, with golden brown hair and tanner skin than most Fenearens. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I may be able to help.”

  “What is your name, keiri?” Thera asked kindly.

  “Katrine Saelia, of the Northeastern Densite.” Her dark brown eyes darted beneath thick lashes.

  “Saelia? Your mother is Saeli, Alpha Georg’s sister?” Bayne asked.

  “She is.” Katrine winced. “Was.”

  Silver guided the shaking girl to sit on the moss-softened boulder. “It’s all right Katrine, take your time.”

  “I was with my uncles when the falcon from Maenor arrived. It was different from the usual ones. Smaller, a kestrel, and it lacked Rhael’s seal, so we knew something was off.” Her voice strengthened as she recited her story, though she did not look at them. “There was a letter from a man named Markus Seperun. He is the leader of the Maenoren Resistance. He said Rhael intended to break the treaty and attack Fenear, starting with our Densite. He spoke of the Da’ Gammorn, of how to kill them, and of what they could do.” She scratched at the moss-coated boulder.

  “Uncle Declan laughed. He said it was a horrible joke, but Georg called a council anyway. I’m not permitted to attend those,” a blush flamed her cheeks, “but there’s a tree by Georg and Declan’s den with a branch that hangs over their hearth’s vent. I climbed it and heard them talking.”

  “What did they say?” asked Thera.

  “The council thought Declan was right, that it could not be true. Then the sentries came to the den, followed by the smell…” She trailed off, her eyes misting.

  “You smelled the Da’ Gammorn?” prompted Silver.

  “It smelled like rotting flesh, but there was the scent of normal Maenorens, too. I ran to find my family. My parents sent my brother Karon and me with the rest of the pups and elders. There must have been too many for the warriors to fight, because they soon pursued us. My brother and I were separated, and one of those Da’ Gammorn attacked me. I thought I would die, but Cairn, a True Wolf, saved me. She said to run to the nearest Densite, and then the next, and warn them of what was coming. She said she would warn the Southern Densite.” She stopped suddenly. “Did she make it? She must have if you sent warriors to the western?”

  Bayne’s mouth was dry. He coughed. “She made it, but she died shortly after.”

  Katrine blinked several times, returning to her story as if she had heard nothing. “I ran to the Northern Densite, but another Maenoren army was already there. So I ran for the Western. I found the Alphen and tried to make them listen. They understood that Maenorens were coming, that the Northern and Northeastern Densites had been attacked. I tried to tell them everything Seperun had said about the Da’ Gammorn, but before I could finish, they called their healers. They thought me panicked and ill, because they forced me to drink something. I woke when they were carrying me away with the evacuees. I tried to get back, because I hadn't finished what I needed to say, but the healers gave me more essence of mandrake, and I woke up here. I should have made them listen. Maybe it would have helped.”

  “What else had you needed to tell them?” asked Silver.

  “In the letter, Seperun also described what the Da’ Gammorn could do. They can possess the bodies of the dead, bend them to their will. Humans and animals, anything dead, can turn against us. The only way to protect ourselves is to burn, decapitate, or puncture the heart of any body, and to make sure everyone wears a seal of Wolnor.”

  “A seal of Wolnor?” repeated Thera. “That explains why Gar was spared. He wore his cousin's on a band around his neck. We’ll need to make one for everyone, to protect the Trues and our own dead from being controlled.”

  “Aye,” said Bayne. “But that still does not explain how the Trues were controlled in the first place. They were alive when they were possessed.”

  Thera’s forehead creased. “According to the legend of the first wolves, wolves are unique, because they were not only blessed by Wolnor, but also cursed by Razorn. Perhaps these curses are what made the Trues vulnerable, though truthfully, I had always thought that story more of an allegory.”

  “I’m beginning to think all the old stories are true.” Bayne arranged his face into a reassuring smile, but he feared it was a watery grimace at best. “Thank you, Katrine. You are very brave. Now please, you need more rest.”

  “Yes Alpha Bayne.” She bowed and wandered toward one of the newly constructed communal dens. Bayne watched her go with a heavy heart. Despite her brown hair and eyes, something about her reminded him of Rayna. He sighed. The rest of his life, however long or short, he would see his niece in every young girl he met.

  Thera interrupted his thoughts. “I will start on thos
e seals of Wolnor, then. A band around the neck seems the most practical.” It was clear that Thera was talking more to herself as she turned toward her den.

  Silver leaned her chin against Bayne's shoulder, and Bayne put his arms around her. “We should tell the pack about the seals,” she said, “and about what Katrine said. Perhaps it will help, knowing that what happened at the Western won’t happen again? That our fallen and the remaining Trues will be safe from demonic influence?”

  Bayne could hear the subtle catch in her voice. It was hard to believe so many of their brothers and sisters were gone, and even worse, that they had been killed by their own corrupted allies. Bayne was surprised Roxen was handling the tragedy as well as he was. The Beta was strong, yes, but witnessing such carnage could drive even the bravest mad.

  Bayne cupped the side of her face, kissing her forehead before slipping his fingers through hers. He led the way toward the site's center, hoping their explanation might offer some comfort to their packmates. They reached the raised slate platform. Silver howled to assemble the camp, and they waited in silence as the overcrowded Fenearens moved within earshot. It took a long time for the pack to gather now that they were so many. Dozens of Trues scattered among the Fenearens, but there were many fewer than before. So many had not returned from the Western Densite. Lark, Pike, Ash, Hawk, Willow, Lichen, Sorrel–the list of brothers and sisters they had lost to Rhael’s evil creatures went on and on.

  Once the crowd settled, Silver began. “Brothers and sisters, I know we are mourning the loss of many. But we now understand how to protect ourselves from the Da' Gammorn's influence.”

  Bayne listened as his mate explained what they had learned with more eloquence than he'd ever have. He could never lead without her, or live for that matter. Why she had fallen for him, he would never understand. But he thanked the gods every day that she had.

  “These bands,” Roxen asked as he approached the raised rock, “they will protect the Trues, but also our bodies, should we fall?”