Hex Breaker (The Fenearen Chronicles Book 1)

by Taryn Noelle Kloeden

  “I'll be all right.” She sighed. “There have been a lot of funeral pyres.”

  “Too many,” Channon agreed as he took her hand. “Rayna, there's something I must tell you.”

  Channon's heartbeat hastened, and hers sped to match as he led her from the crowd. Once they reached the mossy rock at the forest's edge, he stopped. She sat and willed her breathing to slow. After a moment, he settled beside her.

  “When we were in Alvorn, the Priestess showed me a vision of the future ... our future.”

  “Our future? Was it a good one?” Rayna had always lived her entire life with Channon in the moment. She had never stopped to wonder what the future held, not really. It was not until she had come so close to losing him that she'd realized how much she had taken him for granted. She vowed to never do that again.

  A wistful smile spread across Channon's features. “Very good. The best. But Rayna,” his face lost all traces of warmth, “she said it would never happen. She said when Rhael cursed me, he reawakened dark magic that hadn't been seen in thousands of years. She warned me that unless we united and stopped this rising darkness, all would be lost.”

  His grip on her hand tightened. “Do you think, now that we've defeated Rhael, we're safe?”

  “Rhael was evil. Evil incarnate. But this does not end with him, Channon,” she said, remembering what Alvo and Lumae had told her on the battlefield. “All of this, the marriage pact, cursing you, controlling me, Rhael did because Councilor Terayan asked him to, and we don't know why. Until we do, I don't think we're safe.”

  “If that's true, we'll figure it out. Together. I've seen a future worth fighting for, and now I’m never going to let it go.” Channon wrapped his arm around her, kissing the top of her head. For a moment, as she breathed in his leather and pine scent, it was as if nothing in the world could reach them.

  “I'm glad you're here,” she whispered as she turned her gaze to her uncle's still burning funeral pyre. Bayne was gone, but she was not alone.

  “I'm here because of you, Ray. I don't think I ever thanked you. You saved me, and I won't forget that.”

  “You would have done the same for me.”

  “I would have tried, but you were always the strong one.”

  “We're both strong. We're Fenearen.” She nuzzled his shoulder. After all they had been through, so much was uncertain–Terayan's intentions, if the Maenorens would accept the regime change, Channon himself. After what he had endured, there was no telling the kind of man he would become. She looked around the Densite. Silver stood by Bayne's pyre, watching the love of her life burn. Would she choose to lead alone? Mina sat beside Roxen, listening as he told stories of his apprenticeship with Bayne. Would she return to the Kyrean Republic now that the battle was won? For all the talk of seers, Rayna had no idea what the future held for her, or for the ones she loved.

  Yet as her healing body relaxed in Channon's hold, one fact was certain. She was home.

  Epilogue

  Six weeks later

  Kellan sputtered as his guard emptied a pail of icy water over his head. He shook and shivered, rattling the chains around his arms and ankles.

  “Thanks, mate.” He coughed, slinging back his overgrown hair. “It’s been ages since I had a proper bath.”

  The Kyrean guard slammed the empty bucket against Kellan’s bruised cheek.

  Kellan grunted, slinking against the wall of his cell. “Just trying to be polite.”

  The guard shook his head. “You've rotted in this hole for a month now, Kemar. When are you going to learn to shut up?”

  Kellan smiled sardonically. Given that his face had been beaten bloody every day for weeks, though, the guard probably thought he grimaced in pain. But Kellan knew his smile was sardonic, and that was what mattered. Appearances could be deceiving. He had, for instance, imagined his downfall would come in the form of a crossbow bolt, or perhaps a vicious bar fight. He'd not foreseen that it would come via a vexing redhead, though looking back, he should have seen it coming.

  Kellan had been drawn to Rayna from the first, and not in the way women usually drew him. On the surface, she was reasonably attractive, but not a great beauty—beauty was difficult when covered in blood and muck as she tended to be. It had not been the way she looked that had attracted him on that fateful night in Kanton. It had been the way she looked at everything and everyone around her. Her intense green eyes had scanned the room and taken its measure in an instant. Kellan had not at first recognized her as a predator, but he'd felt her presence from the start and could not help wanting to know more. He had been foolish to label his feelings for her as lust; they were an attraction that ran far deeper and hotter than that. Rayna did not know she was a flame, he, a moth, and it was only a matter of time until he'd get burned.

  The red hair should have been a clue.

  A hard slap in the face yanked Kellan back to his prison cell. “I said, sit up, Kemar!”

  “Hitting me less might help with that!” Before the guard could demonstrate how little he was interested in Kellan’s suggestion, someone else entered and waved him aside. Gabriel Garrison looked pleased with himself, and it turned Kellan’s empty stomach.

  “Something stinks,” said Kellan, “besides me, I mean.”

  Garrison hooked his thumbs into his belt, cracking a smile. “Unchain him.”

  “Sir?”

  “I said, unchain him.” Garrison did not look away from Kellan as he gave the guard his orders.

  “Er, yes, sir.” He produced a key, kneeling beside Kellan to release his shackles.

  “Am I going somewhere?” Kellan asked. The guard unlocked the manacle pinning him to the wall, and despite his best efforts, Kellan fell to his knees. His too-thin arms shook as he pushed to his feet. Before he could contemplate an escape attempt, the guard re-shackled his wrists behind his back.

  “Seems a bit much, don’t you think? You've starved and beaten me for weeks. I can barely stand, let alone run. Are you that afraid of me, Garrison?”

  “The hungriest dogs are the most obedient.” Garrison shoved Kellan against the wall and punched him in the gut. “But also the most likely to bite. I won't give you the opportunity.”

  Kellan hacked another cough, and bloody spittle splashed across Garrison’s breastplate. “What do you want?”

  Garrison removed a handkerchief from his robe, wiping away the mess. “All I want from you, Kemar, is to slice away your worthless life piece by piece.” He nodded to the guard. “Unfortunately, Councilor Terayan has other plans.”

  The guard pulled a hood over Kellan’s head, and everything went dark. He was dragged from the cell and up a maze of hallways. Every time he fell, Garrison yanked him to his feet, forcing him on. Eventually they reached a staircase, and Garrison and the guard were forced to carry Kellan. At the top, they dropped him to the floor.

  He rolled over, trying to catch his breath. Garrison threw a set of double doors open, and Kellan was dragged onto his feet once more. By the time they threw him onto the hard marble floor and removed the hood, Kellan’s muscles screamed in pain. He groaned as his eyes adjusted to the daylight bathing the chamber. He had not realized it was day. Part of him had forgotten there was such a thing.

  “Kellan!” a hoarse voice called to him. He squinted at a hunched figure in filthy, oversized robes reaching for him. If it were not for the familiar shock of silver-threaded ginger hair, Kellan wouldn't have recognized his uncle.

  “Lonian!” He stumbled across the room.

  Garrison yanked him back before he could get too close. “Show some respect, Kemar.” He forced Kellan back onto his knees.

  Kellan tore his gaze from his uncle long enough to survey the rest of the room. Columns ran the length of it, and a raised dais crowned the top of the vast, marble chamber. Five chairs were seated along the dais, each intricately carved and complete with a silk cushion. Only the center chair was occupied. A man wearing crimson robes and a golden circlet smiled at him. Kellan remembere
d the first time he had seen that man, that cruel smile, after he and his uncle had been captured by Garrison in Vanuuk.

  “Councilor Terayan.” Kellan’s chains rattled as he rose.

  “Master Kemar. How have you been since our last meeting? The accommodations are to your liking, I trust?”

  Lonian shuffled closer to Kellan. “If you have brought us here to interrogate us further about the locations of our people’s camps, you’re wasting your time, Councilor.”

  “Either kill us or let us go,” said Kellan. “We’ll never tell you what you want to know.”

  “I realize that,” Terayan said. “In fact, I’ve known from the moment I took you into the Republic’s custody.”

  “So the torture was just, what? Recreational?” Kellan hated how his voice shook.

  “Your kind are predictable,” Terayan continued as if he had not heard anything. “I had hoped we might break one of you, but Sylrians, like your Fenearen cousins, tend to be as loyal as, well, dogs. That’s why I knew it was only a matter of time until your people came looking for you. Isn’t that right, Captain Garrison?”

  “Aye, my lord. Once the Sylrians came sniffing around Vanuuk, it was just a matter of tracking them back home. Couldn’t ask for better bait than the last of the Kemars.”

  “You’re lying,” Lonian said. “My people would never allow themselves to be tracked.”

  “Captain Garrison, please show our guests to the window. They will find the view enlightening.”

  Garrison grabbed Kellan’s chains as the other guard took hold of Lonian’s. They half-dragged, half-carried them to an enormous window that took up most of the wall overlooking a crowded courtyard.

  “That’s…impossible,” said Lonian.

  Their window was high up, but Kellan had no trouble identifying his own tribe. Men, women, children, in chains. There were even pens filled with their dogs.

  “You see, gentlemen,” Terayan spoke, and Kellan and Lonian were shoved to face him, “I have no need of your information. Your people are in chains. Your lands have been conquered. Everything you had is now the property of the Kyrean Republic, as it should have been centuries ago.”

  Kellan expected his uncle to be shaking with rage, ready to fly at Terayan or Garrison, but he found Lonian silent. Tears ran down his battered, bearded face.

  “How can this be what you want? An entire race of people subjugated, a culture destroyed? No one can want something so callous, so wasteful. How can people like you exist?” Lonian's eyes tracked from Terayan to Garrison.

  “The strong survive, and the weak perish, Kemar,” said Garrison. “There’s no point in begging; it will change nothing.”

  “I’m not begging.” Lonian turned his gaze to the marble floor.

  “Not yet, at any rate,” Terayan nodded to Garrison and the guard. They grabbed Lonian and Kellan’s chains, leading them back to the dais where they shoved them onto their knees.

  “I would like to show you something else.” The Councilor reseated himself, bringing his gloved hands together and muttering a word Kellan could not quite understand. When Terayan separated his palms, the air between them had changed. Instead of seeing through to Terayan’s chest and face, he saw instead a shop-lined street of cobblestones.

  “The lower city of Halmstead,” Terayan explained. “Watch closely.” As he spoke, a creature darted into view from an alleyway—a dog with dappled gray fur and folded-over ears.

  “Laera!” Lonian lunged forward, but Garrison yanked him back.

  “There’s no need,” said Terayan. “This is merely an image. She cannot hear you or see you. Earlier this morning, your pet escaped while a guard attempted to feed her. She has made it all the way to the lower city, no mean feat. Unfortunately for her, I have archers hidden in a building just ahead.”

  “No, please! She is part of me. I can’t lose her, not like this!”

  “There, see what I meant about begging?” The image of a half-starved Laera running through the streets of Halmstead blocked Kellan’s view of Terayan’s face. But he heard the smile in his voice.

  “Why are you doing this?” Kellan shouted. “Laera’s nothing to you. Why don’t you let her go?”

  “That is exactly what I am going to do, young Master Kemar.”

  “What?” Kellan began, but the scene unfolding in front of them cut him off. The archers loosed their arrows, but none hit their mark. Laera dashed past them, toward the city outskirts.

  “They were instructed to miss, but she had to think it was real.” Terayan clapped his hands, and the image disappeared. “Do you really think a dog could escape me if I did not want it to? Your creature may believe she had freed herself, but in truth, she is free only because I allowed it.”

  “Why?” asked Lonian. His voice was shaky, though from relief or anger, Kellan could not say.

  “Tell me, Masters Kemar, where will Laera go for aid? She saw the rest of your kind captured this morning. She knows no one is left in the Sylrian Provinces to help her, and even if there were, she could not communicate directly with any human aside from you, Lonian. There is only one place in all Osterna where she will find friends and people—although I use the word loosely—that can understand her speech.”

  “Fenear.” Kellan rose from his knees, and no one stopped him.

  “Precisely. She will run to our mutual friend. Rayna Myana is loyal to those she calls friends; no one would argue that. When she hears that the men who saved her life have been captured, that your people have been enslaved, she will come for you. When she does, I will be expecting her.”

  Garrison laughed, but Kellan swallowed the fire burning in his throat. “You’re wrong,” he said. “Rayna was nothing to either of us. We helped her, but it was only a way to complicate your plans for her. She knows that. We were acquaintances, nothing more. Kill us now if you must; Rayna will not be coming for us.”

  “How gallant of you.” Terayan leaned forward. “I know you’re lying to protect her. Garrison, Hayden, take the other prisoner away. I wish to speak with the younger Kemar alone.”

  Garrison signaled the other guard, and they grabbed Lonian by the shoulders.

  “No!” Lonian shouted. Whatever you do to him, do to me instead. Kellan!” They dragged him screaming through the double doors. “Kellan, I love–” but the doors slammed shut.

  Kellan's arms were chained behind his back, but he was free to move otherwise. He backed from the dais, and Terayan gave no indication that he noticed.

  “What happens now? You keep us as bait for Rayna? If she comes?”

  “Yes, for now, though I have other uses in mind for you both. Do not misunderstand me; I intend to see you both dead. But I do resent what your uncle said earlier. I am many things, but wasteful is not one of them. I will use your deaths to their fullest potential. So take comfort in that. Your deaths shall serve a higher purpose.”

  Kellan spat on the shining floor as he calculated how long it would take him to reach the Councilor. “Higher purpose, my–”

  “Master Kemar. I know you intend to attack me. Let me save you the trouble. Nothing you could do would allow you access to me, even if your hands were not chained. Please, let us remain civilized.”

  Kellan huffed. There were two possibilities: either Terayan told the truth, or he bluffed. Kellan had always called people on their bluffs.

  He leaped toward Terayan in his silk-cushioned chair, but the Councilor flicked his hand, and Kellan flew across the room, landing against a column with a head-splitting thud. By the time he regained his feet, Terayan had crossed the room.

  He slammed his forearm across Kellan’s neck, pushing him back against the column. “I did try to warn you.”

  Kellan coughed. Terayan released the pressure enough for him to speak. “I never have been good at taking advice.”

  “Dogs are supposed to be obedient, but I am afraid you have too much wolf in you. Perhaps that is what drew the seer to you.”

  Kellan slunk to the floor.
“All of this, over Rayna? What drives you to her? Why do you want her dead so damn badly?”

  Terayan returned to the window overlooking the courtyard. He had his back to Kellan. “I don’t want her dead. Not anymore.”

  “What? You had her kidnapped. Rhael was going to kill her on your orders! But now you don’t want her dead?”

  “I did, but plans change. Rayna must live, and now that I have you and dozens of your savage people, she will come to me.”

  “All right, your obsession has reached new heights. You’re deluded into thinking she will be foolish enough to come help people she barely knows of. Do you really think she will be easy to catch? She won’t come alone. At the very least, she’ll have her guard dog with her.”

  “Her guard dog.” Terayan turned around. The sun lit his blond hair and the circlet that ran through it like a halo. “You mean Master Lyallt?”

  “Aye. Rayna is vicious, but Channon? He’s insane, and when it comes to Rayna, well, you'll need more than an army and magic tricks to get through him.”

  “Yes. He is playing his role to perfection. It would seem he has you fooled, too.”

  “Role?” Kellan rose, stumbling toward Terayan. “What do you mean role?”

  “Our conversation has gone on quite long enough.” The double doors flew open as Terayan spoke. “My men will show you out.” Four guards marched into the room and gripped Kellan’s chains.

  As they dragged him from the chamber, Kellan shouted, “Answer me! What did you do to Channon? What is he?”

  But the doors shut, and Terayan was gone. The guards threw the hood over Kellan’s head, and he was left in darkness once more.

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