Stone Heir (The Kahlian Series Book 1)

by Aimee Hunter

  the kahlian series

  Book One:

  STONE HEIR

  by

  Aimee Hunter

  Chapter One

  The full moon glowed eerily above the rolling plains, the silent eternal witness to the wolf trotting across the blue white fields. The creature paused, tilting its head, picking sounds out of the silent night. It lifts its nose skyward and sniffs gently, dissecting the scents the way a scientist dissects a specimen. Blue eyes flare briefly in satisfaction. There. The scent it has been following for so long. The wolf shakes its thick white fur and starts out at a trot again. Patience, it thought.

  My time will come.

  A young man sat quietly beside a small camp fire. His posture that of someone who had enjoyed little to no sleep for a number of days. His once finely made hunting clothes were dirty and torn. There were stains on his clothes that looked like dried blood, though he appeared unharmed. He had just finished unsaddling his horse and setting up camp for the night, his boots and weapons lay next to his bedroll on the other side of the fire as he ate the last of his food. As he lifted the fork to his mouth, he heard movement from beyond the glow of the fire and spun quickly in that direction. For several tense, heart pounding minutes, he waited, gray eyes straining to pierce the shadows beyond the light of his fire.

  He began breathing heavily, close to panicking, as several pairs of glowing eyes appeared around his camp site, staying just beyond the edge of light. He twisted back to face the fire and froze, his heart nearly seizing in his chest at what sat across the fire from him. A huge, beautiful white wolf, one that had been hunting him for days. Her blue eyes, that held such intelligence, it was like looking into the eyes of another person, were locked onto him. As though waiting for him to make even the slightest move.

  Frantically looking for an escape, but finding only more eyes staring back at him. He was too far from his weapons. Hell, the damned bitch was closer to them than he was. He cursed hotly under his breath. He was close to a town, but no one would be able to hear if he called for help.

  The wolf's ears twitched slightly and she stood, eyes locked onto his. She turned and disappeared into the night, as silently and as suddenly as she had appeared. He jumped up and turned a full circle, nearly fainting with relief when he saw torches in the distance. He snatched up his sword and yanked on his boots. He turned to go to his horse, momentarily distracted by a flash of light, he froze as the night spoke to him in a woman's low, throaty voice. It's words sending cold knives of fear through his heart.

  "Do not think you have escaped me. We will meet again, and when we do; you will die." The words, though spoken softly, were uttered with enough deadly force to make him believe them.

  "Now, run. While you still can." He needed no further prodding. He raced to were his horse was tethered and stopped cold. She was dead, her throat was ripped out and her head lay at an odd angle. Blood stained the ground around the body of his favorite horse. A low sob ripped from his throat. Damn it! He had helped to bring that horse into the world, trained her himself! Tears stung his eyes, she had been a gift from his father.

  "Be glad only your horse died this night. It could just as easily have been you." Warned that same calm, throaty voice.

  "Damn you!" he roared at the night. "What the hell are you!?" He demanded. The low chuckle that greeted his outburst slid across his nerves like ice.

  "I don't care if you're a mutant or a demon! Face me! At least I will die a man!" He growled savagely. False bravado masking his fear. Twin blue lights flared briefly when the light from the campfire caught them.

  "Neither demon nor mutant; but make no mistake, you will die. Whether it is on your feet, fighting like a man or on your knee's begging like a coward, is up to you; but you will die." The voice stated matter-of-factly. It paused then continued softly. "Your rescue party approaches. For now, you are safe, but know this human. Even inside the walls of your city, you are not beyond my reach." Silence followed that quiet declaration and he had no chance to respond as the riders pulled to a stop in front of him.

  The lead rider raised his torch, "Devon? Is that you, son?" asked the voice of his father. Devon Corlando looked up at his father with a hunted look. King Alexander Corlando dismounted quickly and grasped his young son by the arms.

  "What is it, boy? You look like you've seen a ghost." Devon's gray gaze slid from his father to rest on the mutilated corpse of his horse. Alexander's eye's followed that of his son's and he paled at the gruesome sight.

  "God! What happened? Devon! Speak to me boy! What happened?" He demanded. Devon shook his head, trying to clear it. "Son, you were gone for two weeks. What happened to you? Where are Mikel and Rufus?" He questioned softly. A haunted, glazed look overcame Devon, making Alexander's face harden. Swearing to himself that whoever had put that look on his son's face would pay dearly. The swear quickly turning into a vow at Devon's next words.

  "Dead. They're all dead, Father. We went hunting and came across a pack of wolves." he mumbled almost to himself, making Alexander strain to hear him. He gestured to a pile of wolf pelts lying next to the dead horse. "We killed all but one. A beautiful white female. Huge, with the bluest eyes. I wanted to capture her, bring her home. Rufus told me I was crazy, maybe he was right." he murmured brokenly. Alexander swore hotly. Waiting, knowing Devon needed to tell him in his own time.

  "Two of the escort tried to put a rope around her, tried to stun her. But she was to fast! She...she tore out their throats before they could draw their swords!" He cried. "We fled, to regroup. But three more were killed while they slept. Only Mikel, Rufus and I remained. But she hunted us. All the way here. Picking us off one by one until I was the only one left!" Terrified eyes locked onto his father's hazel ones in panic.

  "She was here, Father! She was going to kill me, but she heard you coming. She said that she would find me again and next time she would kill me! She said that she could reach me, even inside the walls of Culville!" he practically screamed, pulling his father towards the horses. "We must go! She could still be here!" Alexander could tell Devon was fast approaching a full blown panic.

  "Son! Son! DEVON!" he finally bellowed to get his son's attention. When he had, he spoke softly so as not to startle the frightened young man. "Devon. Listen to yourself, boy. Wolves don't talk. They can't. They're only animals." He tried reasoning with him but Devon was shaking his head glancing around frantically.

  "Father. I'm not completely crazy. I know wolves can't talk." Alexander nodded his head. "But this one did!" he hissed, "I don't know how. She just did." Alexander frowned and glanced back at his men, nodding. Without speaking, they formed a protective circle around father and son. Their weapons drawn and held ready. Alexander put his arm around Devon's shoulders.

  "Come, my boy. You've had a long ride and a bad time of it." he steered his son to the horses, waiting for him to mount the spare horse before remounting his own. As the group rode towards the city, Alexander hung back and looked around the camp fire that was still burning. He was about to order one of his men to put it out, when he saw a figure step from the shadows and douse the flames. Frowning thoughtfully, Alexander turned to his most trusted Captain.

  "Captain Dumas. Double the guard on the wall and throughout the city, as well as in the palace. I don't know what he saw, but he saw something that frightened him and he's convinced whatever it was, is going to kill him." He ordered, concern making the lines of his aging face pronounced.

  Captain Xavier Dumas, a giant of a man with long black hair habitually tied back, nodded. "Yes, my King."

  The woman stood in the shadows, silently listening. She could hear them perfectly. She smiled a hunt
er's predatory smile as she followed the young prince back to the safety of those high walls. "Yes, little boy. Hide behind your walls. Believe you are safe." She intoned, watching as they entered the city gates that slowly swung closed behind them.

  "Well, little one. I see you've cornered your prey." said a mocking voice just behind her. She turned slowly, not surprised by who she found. She had sensed his arrival long before he spoke.

  "Yes, I have. My prey, Damian." He held up his hands.

  "I wouldn't dream of stealing from you, Your Highness." came the placating reply. A low growl rumbled from her throat, it's meaning unmistakable. He laughed and melted into the night. Mason Stone glared after him, then turned back to the city. He will pay, she swore to herself, and I will be the one to collect. She grinned such a savage grin had anyone been there to witness it, they would have felt the cold chill of terror slide down their spine.

  Chapter Two

  Damian Augustus stared silently up at the high walls surrounding one of the only cities left on Earth after World War III. His viridian green eyes flitted around the surrounding landscape seeing ghosts of the civilization that had once inhabited this land. Once the greatest of nations until the nuclear fallout of the War destroyed and changed everything. Now only a few cities remained. Mere shadows of what they once were. Nearly four hundred years had passed since the War had finally ended after twenty years of constant fighting and political coups. Damian smiled at the memories of the war. It had been a good time for him, he had fought for the winning side. His kind were not products of the War. They had existed for eons before America was ever discovered, and were immortal. There was only one way his people could die, by having their hearts removed from their bodies.

  Full lips lifted in a feral grin, he had removed many hearts; he'd even eaten a few. Hoping to absorb his enemies power. He liked to think it had worked. The sound of voices snapped his mind back to the present. He glanced up at the guards patrolling the walls. Eyes narrowing upon seeing the weapons they carried. Guns. Damian abhorred guns. Using a gun was a coward’s way. A true warrior used a sword. Not to mention, bullets stung like hell.

  "You there!" shouted one of the guards. "What are you doing?" The sound of weapons being primed reached his ears. Damian mentally rolled his eyes.

  "Please, sir. Allow me to enter! My name is Damian Augustus." He shouted up to them. The guards stared down at the stranger. They recognized the name, one would have to live under a rock the last fifteen years not to know the name. This stranger, though windblown and dirty from trail dust, looked the part. His clothing alone spoke of wealth and position. He wore brown leather pants and boots with a gold rosette belt. A long sleeve button down white shirt covered his lean yet powerful upper body, and an ankle length brown duster encased his shoulders. Long blonde hair fell past his shoulder, framing a strong face, tanned a golden brown by the sun. A noble nose, high cheekbones, full lips and a strong jaw stamped him of aristocratic descent. But the most compelling feature on his handsome face were his eyes. A deep vibrant, almost metallic, green. Eyes that could see into the soul and know all the secrets kept there.

  "What is your business here, sir?" Asked Captain Dumas, who had just arrived. He had been summoned once the man had been spotted. The Captain took in the sight of the big man sitting easily atop a big roan stallion.

  "Is the King expecting you, Sir?" The Captain asked.

  "No. But he will want to hear what I have to say." Damian responded.

  "And what is that?" Xavier persisted. Damian sighed and lowered his gaze for a moment, then glanced around in what appeared to the guards to be a frantic fashion.

  "A mutant horde is gathering. They have fixed their gaze upon Culville. I came to warn the King." He told them, trying to sound frantic. Captain Dumas' eyes widened in alarm.

  "Open the gates! Let him pass!" he shouted. He turned and ordered his lieutenant to inform the King. In doing so, he missed the triumphant smirk that Damian quickly hid. When he turned back, the stranger sat in an exhausted slouch, watching the gates swing open. Damian walked his tired horse into the bustling city that three hundred years ago, had once been Kansas City. He dismounted as the gates swung closed behind him once again, shutting out the world. He waited for Captain Dumas to descend from the wall.

  "Mr. Augustus. Forgive me, but I must ask. If you are who you say you are, where is your escort?" Damian allowed a desperate haunted look to cross his face as he ran a shaky hand through his hair.

  "When I left my home, I had ten guards. They are all dead. Most simply disappeared from their bed rolls, never to be seen again." he told him quietly, allowing the man’s imagination to fill in the blanks. Whatever the Captain was going to say was lost with the King's arrival, his son a few steps behind.

  "Damian!" King Alexander Corlando exclaimed. Clasping his old friend by the shoulders. He laughed, "It is good to see you, my friend." Damian smiled genuinely for the first time all day. Despite his plans, he truly liked and respected this man.

  "It is good to see you as well, my King." He said, starting to bow. Alexander waved him off.

  "None of that. We are friends, Damian. My friends do not bow to me." Damian laughed and nodded. Alexander looked around curiously, "Damian. Do not tell me you travel alone? Strong though you may be, even you aren't that foolish." Sadness flashed across his face as Damian replied.

  "I left with ten, Alexander. Only I remain, and barely at that!" He exclaimed. "We were hunted by strange wolf-like creatures the entire journey. My men disappeared from where they slept. The only sign of where they had gone would be a trail of blood." A horrified shiver swept through Prince Devon Corlando.

  "You see Father!? It's real!" he hissed into Alexanders ear.

  The King nodded, "So it would seem." Damian adopted a confused look which he directed at his old friend.

  "A few weeks ago my son had a similar experience. We thought it isolated. Until now." He explained frowning. "Come. We have much to discuss, and you must be hungry after your long journey." He gestured for Damian, Devon and the Captain to follow him to the Palace. The trio trailed after him, Damian pausing long enough to see his horse led to the stables before hurrying to catch up with his host.

  Chapter Three

  The white wolf sat just inside the tree line of the massive forest circling the kingdom fortress of Culville, listening to Damian con his way past the city gates. Her ears flattened against her skull as she snarled. Bastard, she growled. A slightly smaller, red wolf appeared at her side, softly nipping her shoulder. She gently licked the red wolfs cheek affectionately. There was a rustling behind the two wolves as a tall beautiful woman stepped forward holding an armful of clothing.

  A sudden flash of black light shimmered around the white wolf, revealing an equally beautiful woman crouching where the wolf had sat. Mason Stone raised her pale blue eyes to the woman standing before her and smiled.

  "Are you just going to stand there or are you going to hand me my clothes?" She teased. Diana Stone rolled her eyes at her little sister. She handed Mason her clothes as the red wolf transformed into a sweet looking young woman with deep flaming red hair and startling green eyes.

  "What about me, Di?" asked Lana, the youngest Stone sister, laughing when she got a face full of clothing.

  As her two younger sisters dressed, Diana Stone took stock of her family. Focusing first on the youngest, Lana. The girl looked younger than she was, and had an innocent face. But when pushed to it, she was a fierce warrior, deserving of the name Stone. Like all Stone women, she was tall and stronger than five men. Being a shape-shifter had its advantages, she mused. The girl was very pretty, softly rounded cheeks, cupid bow lip that pouted naturally and innocent green eyes. She hadn't seen the things Diana and Mason had.

  Diana's hazel gaze swung to Mason. A slow proud smile crept across her face. Mason was the spitting image of their mother other than her hair, and shared the same indomitable spirit. Though possessed with the same tactical mind as their father.
Of the three, Mason was, undoubtedly, the strongest. And therefore, the leader. She towered over Diana and Lana, but had a more sculpted musculature. Though that wasn't to say that her womanly curves weren't abundantly evident. Stone women were blessed in that regard as well.

  Mason was breath taking, with deep mahogany brown hair, generous full lips made to laugh and smile and eyes that could be white with anger or deep ocean blue with happiness. She had a strong jaw that screamed stubbornness. People often underestimated her because of her looks until they saw her in action. Mason was an unstoppable force, honorable and brave, as they all were. She had learned hand-to-hand combat in the east, in the land of the Rising Sun. The island that had once been Japan.

  The sword she wore at her side was a testament to that. An ancient Matsuda Katana. The handle was a masterpiece of art. It was in the shape of a wolf, with blue sapphires for eyes and made of bleached ivory. The pommel was solid gold and was crafted by a master gold smith. It had two wolves nose to tail in a circle.

  Lana's sword was unique as well. It reminded Diana of an old Roman gladius, only longer and lighter with a thinner blade. Her own blade, was Chinese in the Jian style. A straight double edged blade that was more like a dance partner than a weapon. As the girls finished readying themselves to travel, Diana's attention turned inward. She was the oldest, though by looking at her, you wouldn't be able to tell. She was beautiful in her own right. Naturally golden blonde, her gold hazel eyes a sharp contrast to her pale hair and skin.

  Like all women of her family she had a strong face and was just as fierce a warrior as her two sisters, but she was more prone to peaceful solutions whenever possible, though she would fight if she had to. Diana was the quiet one, slower to anger, not as passionate as her sisters. She was just as striking; her looks would be called regally stunning. All three women were physically fit, Mason and Lana especially. Diana was somewhat softer, more feminine.