Birth Stone

by Kate Kelley

  What a hurtful thing for him to say, even if he didn’t mean it.

  They could never be, even if they weren’t already engaged to other people.

  He is the King, for gods’ sake.

  This was the fifth night of their trek and it was drawing to a close. Dusky sky glowed orange across the mountains as they searched for a place to set up camp. The terrain was becoming more and more difficult to trek the farther through the mountains they climbed; more rocky and steep as they rose higher in altitude.

  The cloud of dark magic lurking around them hadn’t dissipated. In fact, it had seemed to thicken the closer they got to the precipice. It thickened the air, preventing her from drawing in a full breath. It spurned a more urgent sense of action, of determination. Turning back wasn’t an option. The pendant around her neck, nestled inside her shirt, compelled her forward, like a guiding hand at her back, ready to protect if needed.

  “We will stop up here,” Terrin called from up ahead, “we’ll set camp by the river.”

  The white-out sound of rushing water was a tell-tale sign they were very close. Terrin hurried ahead, whipping around a curve in the path while Lyra continued her slow pace. She was tired. In fact, she thought she might get off the horse and walk the rest of the way. Use different muscles, give the others a rest.

  Dismounting, she stretched and rubbed her sore backside. Her horse bristled patiently, bending to munch on a bit of grass sticking up through the dirt. Lyra stood and watched the majestic creature for a few minutes, smoothing the soft coat of his ribs, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of the future.

  It was a few minutes before she looked up and realized the shadows had grown longer, darker.

  Her horse jumped into a trot suddenly, throwing her off balance. She recovered quickly and stilled.

  A sudden feeling struck her, an alarm, like the moment a thorn pricks your thumb, that acute pain that seemed to linger as you watched the blood well up on your skin.

  Something wasn’t right.

  A branch snapped behind her.

  A low growl, so deep it was almost undecipherable by human ears, hit her in the back, the vibration causing the hairs on her neck to stand on end. She turned, slowly, her gaze sweeping the darkened forest, trying to find the source of the inhuman sound. Her heart pounded in her chest, thudding loudly against her ribs and drowning out her thoughts. She turned back around and jogged, her horse frenzied and exceedingly skittish as it trotted next to her. She wouldn’t be able to fight someone from atop her horse, and the opponent would have a clear shot at her from up there if they were using bow and arrow.

  The growl sounded again, this time somewhere to her right. And again, at her back.

  There was more than one.

  Whipping around, absolute horror struck her as a pair of demon-red eyes pierced her from the shadows. As she kept her gaze steady on the glowing eyes, the giant body of a gray furry beast materialized around them.

  Lyra’s heart jumped into her throat, her aura rushing out in a bright burst of red before she could think. It struck the beast squarely in the chest, knocking it back with a shrill whimper. Blinding pain seared through her back, causing her to fall forward to her knees. She rolled onto her back, screaming as the coarse dirt grated against her wounds.

  She kicked upward just in time as another beast, fur bright crimson, lunged for her with sprawling legs and claws. Her powerful kick felled the beast, but only for a few moments. It stood grotesquely on hind legs, its ribs jutting harshly in the unnatural pose.

  Icy blue eyes pierced her, an intelligence beyond the limits of an animal shining through. A thrill frosted along Lyra’s spine as she stood and blasted her aura into the beast, sending it into a spasm as the red glow of her magic encircled it. The beast's black lips pulled back to reveal a mouthful of razor sharp fangs, while its eyes rolled back in its head. She let up after a moment, severing the magic, and breathing heavily as the red beast lay unmoving.

  She didn’t care if it died. She rather hoped it did.

  The other beast was gone, vanished. But so was her horse.

  She ran through darkened trees, as blood gushed freely from large gashes across her left shoulder blade and back, her shirt ripped to shreds. The pain threatened to encompass her, her vision tunneling, but she kept her aura alive, kept her energy flowing and awake. It seemed to stabilize her.

  She came to the curve of a grassy cliff, and fell to her knees to look below into the river. Early moonlight washed over the scene. Her horse lay still in the shallow running stream, eyes wide with fear, body torn to shreds. Blood flowed from its wounds, turning the river a dark crimson.

  “No!” Lyra sobbed, sweat and blood running off her shoulder and over the cliff now. Rage burst through her. She punched the rocky ground, bruising her knuckles. For an animal to do that and not eat it’s prey meant that it was evil, plain and simple.

  Surveying the water more closely for signs of the beast, she noticed her sleeping bag and coat lay on the bank, tattered and ripped apart. Breathing steadily through her nose, Lyra stood. She swayed, dizzied, falling toward the air over the cliff.

  A crushing grip latched into her arm, yanking her back from the edge and pulling her slowly healing wounds open again. Lyra screamed.

  “What in gods’ name happened to you?” Terrin asked roughly, concern etched through his voice when he saw the blood. His grip on her arms loosened. Lyra swayed again, breathing through her nose to try to stay alert. Terrin surveyed her wounds, using his hand as a light source and sucking in a sharp breath at what he saw. Deep gashes poured with blood, dripping down her back.

  “Who did this?” His steely voice was a growl, full of the promise of death.

  “Wolves, I think. Monstrous ones. I've never seen anything like it. They attacked us on the path. They killed my horse,” she choked out the last part.

  “The wolves were wiped out in the devastation,” he spoke lowly, tearing her shirt slightly to inspect more of her wounds. Suddenly Lyra was lifted into the air, cradled in Terrin’s arms like a child. He made sure not to put pressure on her wounded shoulder.

  “I can still walk, Terrin. This is ridiculous.” She couldn’t deny it felt good to be in his arms, holding her as if she weighed no more than his satchel.

  “Ah, my sleeping bag has been ripped to shreds as well.” Terrin frowned.

  “That doesn’t sound like typical behaviour of wolves. And you said there were only two? Wolves travel in packs, not pairs.” Lyra nodded. Terrin shook his head, the gears turning in his head. When they reached camp, Lyra noticed they were next to a small pond tucked into the rocky side of the hill, with a small waterfall flowing into it. The sound alone soothed her.

  “You’ll need to wash that. Then I can try healing it,” Terrin explained, setting her down on her good side atop his sleeping bag.

  “Can you heal hypothermia too, because that’s what will happen if I get into that freezing water.” Terrin dipped his hand into the pool, testing it.

  “It’s a hot spring.”

  “Well, that changes things,” Lyra breathed through clenched teeth. She stood and made her way over to the spring, dipping her hand in. Warm, almost hot, water met her hand, instantly soothing. When she peered at it at the right angle, she could see steam rising up and away into the cool night air.

  Oh, this was going to be glorious.

  “Okay, turn around,” Lyra called to Terrin, who was about five feet away. He turned, hands on his hips.

  “You know, I have seen you naked before,” he said teasingly. Lyra’s body heated as she unlaced and tugged her vest off, wincing at the pain of folding the skin of her wound. Unshed tears sprang to her eyes.

  Damn, but this hurts. I am not going to be able to raise my arms above my head without screaming in pain.

  She tugged down her pants, peeling them off like a second layer of skin, leaving her underwear on. She needed to wash these too. She threw the pants behind her into the water, watching them flop o
n top, floating.

  She was finally going to be able to take a bath! Suddenly getting naked in front of Terrin didn’t seem so terrible. She needed to get into the water, now, scrub the two weeks worth of dirt and sweat off of her skin. Maybe I could just go in in my top too.

  “Do you need help?” Terrin called out. She looked up. He was looking right at her. Her jaw dropped.

  “Terrin! I said to turn around!”

  “You look like you need help,” he repeated, waving away her complaint and advancing toward her.

  “Fine. Rip the shirt in the back and remove the chemise to my hips and I’ll handle the rest.” Terrin stood behind her, his heat warming her. He grabbed opposite sides of the thin shirt and tore it to the bottom like it was a piece of parchment. The cold air hit her skin, and she winced as it brushed against her gashes. Terrin then carefully peeled the sleeves down her arms, staying put behind her. She shrugged the remaining fabric off of her wrists, letting it drop onto the ground. Her stomach squealed as Terrin then softly grabbed the skinny straps of her chemise and pushed them down, careful not to touch her wound. Lyra removed her arms the rest of the way and Terrin folded the garment down further, exposing her torso and breasts to the cold night air. Her nipples puckered immediately, and she sucked in her tummy.

  “Ahhh, okay go. I need to get into the water now. It’s freezing out here,” Lyra said, hugging her arms to her chest and clattering her teeth.

  Terrin sucked in a breath and Lyra waited for him to move back to camp when she heard a rustle of clothes and then a splash. She whipped around, her arms still covering her chest, her chemise covering a strip of upper thigh. Terrin stood waist deep in the water, eyes greedily soaking her in, taking on a glazed look.

  “What are you doing?” she hissed. His eyes snapped back up to her face.

  “Bathing. As I have every right to,” he challenged. Lyra groaned.

  “Fine,” she hissed again, “close your eyes.”

  He did as he was told, though Lyra wondered if his eyes were really closed or if they were open a sliver. She wouldn’t put it past him.

  Not being able to take the cold any longer, she unhugged herself and slipped the rest of the chemise off, throwing it into the pool and, keeping her eyes on Terrin, hoisted herself up on the cold rock that bordered the spring. Slowly, she dipped her legs in, then stood up, her feet slipping slightly on bottom silt and immersed all the way. It was just deep enough for her to stand flat-footed so that the water level hit her collarbones. She groaned as the heat of the water soothed her to the core, washing away the gore on her back and eating away the grime on her skin.

  Terrin stood a few feet away, watching her quietly, scrubbing his arms and neck. Lyra glared at him before holding her breath and dunking under, then emerging back to the top and wiping her slick hair back. She winced when she raised her arms, her shoulder screaming.

  “Damn, that hurts,” Lyra cursed. Terrin crossed to her swiftly, the water rushing with his movements. He stood behind her, held her still, and examined her shoulder.

  “It’s still bleeding. These wounds are very deep. You’re lucky it only got your shoulder.” Terrin touched his finger to the wound lightly, eliciting another curse from Lyra.

  “You’ve yet to learn to be ladylike,” he said dryly. Lyra inhaled through clenched teeth as the touch returned, this time with his full hand. She tried to move away, but Terrin wrapped his right arm around her middle, his hand stilling her as it rested just over her aura center. The touch felt slippery under the water and though she could probably get away from him, she honestly didn’t want to. His bare hand on her abdomen was intoxicating. He was careful not to let his body touch her from behind, and for that she was grateful. A warming sensation built in her wound, almost to the point where it was uncomfortable before fading back. Terrin began stroking her torso with his thumb, eliciting a stifled moan from Lyra’s throat. She coughed, attempting to cover up her slip. Terrin stroked again.

  “Will you stop?” she asked sharply, moving forward. His hand slipped to her hip and gripped hard. She stopped, her breath coming far heavier than before. His chest brushed up against her shoulders.

  “Ouch!” she cried.

  “Hold still. Almost done. I was trying to coax out your healing aura; I need it to finish the process,” Terrin said through gritted teeth. Lyra scoffed but held still.

  Terrin’s hand resumed his stroking and soon she felt a tug there, a siphoning until her aura was bright hot. She watched a white thread of light make its way up Terrin’s arm and felt the same warming sensation on her shoulder as before. It grew tight again before fading completely to normal.. He smoothed the skin on her shoulder.

  “There,” he said, satisfied. The pain was gone. Lyra wiped a hand over her wounded shoulder, shocked to find the skin as smooth as before. She turned to face him.

  “Can you teach me to heal like that? Without crystals?” Terrin’s eyes dipped to her breasts, which Lyra were sure were hidden under the darkness of the water. She crossed her arms over them anyway.

  “I might be able to,” he said when he returned his eyes to hers.

  Lyra sank deeper into the pool, swimming backward away from Terrin and toward the small, gently churning waterfall at the far end of the spring. The water spritzed her face with warmth as she neared it. As she crossed under the waterfall, she marveled at the raw serenity and perfection she found. It smelled like fresh water and earthy rock, and she took a deep, tranquilizing breath. Behind the waterfall, it was darker, as she was cocooned in a half-sphere of rock, the fall acting as a curtain. The water was more shallow here so that when Lyra stood, her breasts were exposed. She peered through the falling water but couldn’t see Terrin.

  Good.

  Scrubbing her body with her hands, she focused on her underarms and all other crevices she had been sweating in for the last two weeks with no bath. Finally satisfied with her cleanliness, she leaned backward until her hair dipped into the water, and used her hands to scrub and massage her scalp.

  A prickling sensation up her neck caused her to whip her head back up, the water sloshing as she rose.

  Terrin stood in front of her, barely perceptible, shadows darkening his features. A splinter of silver moonlight shining through the side of the fall was all she had to illuminate the cavern. She dropped down, squatting, so that her body was covered. Terrin chuckled.

  “You’re a bastard,” Lyra accused. She tried not to stare at his body. The water level hit Terrin low on his hips.

  “Hm, indeed," he purred. "Actually, Techni is the true bastard, if you want to get technical.”

  Lyra squinted at him, moving to sit on a smooth boulder near the edge so she could relax. Terrin followed, sitting next to her, less than a foot away.

  “What do you mean?” Lyra asked.

  “We don’t share the same father. My father told me on his deathbed.” Sympathy hit Lyra. She hadn’t known about his father. Only that his mother died banishing Techni.

  “I’m sorry. How did he die?”

  “Hunting accident. Which is just absurd if you think about it. He was a great mage, one of the best. He should have been able to heal. I puzzled over that for a long time. But I have no answers other than the fact that we aren’t immortal. We make mistakes. Even though we can live for centuries. We’re only creatures, and all creatures die.” His tone had turned rugged, almost bitter.

  “So Techni had a different father. Maybe that’s why he was a difficult brother.”

  “But I don’t think he knew. He had everything any child could want in a family. Our mother was loving, involved herself in our lives much more than other queens would. She breastfed us herself, you know. No wet nurse. That was unheard of in those days.” Terrin’s voice changed from hard to something else, the memories of his mother softening his voice. “Our father was good to him. Loving, even, despite knowing he wasn’t his own flesh and blood son. The only thing I can think of is that Techni just has evil in his blood. Hard as I'
ve tried, I can’t find records of Techni’s birth so I don’t know who his father is.”

  The soft, bubbling pour of water from the fall into the pool filled the silence of the hidden cavern. Lyra leaned back and rinsed her hair again, warming it once more before squeezing it out and holding it out of the water. She yawned. A slosh of water signaled Terrin standing.

  “Let’s get you to bed. You’ve had a long day,” he said, back to business.

  Lyra stood, then arranged her hair to cover her breasts on each side before coming out from behind the waterfall. Terrin reached the edge and hopped out and Lyra caught a glimpse of his muscular backside and lean legs as he jogged to the camp. She quickly looked away as her heartbeat picked up speed.

  A man shouldn’t be allowed to be that beautifully built.

  She walked to the edge of the pool and lifted herself out, sitting on the edge. Freezing cold enveloped her. She placed her hands on her lap to shield herself from view. Terrin approached behind her with a wool garment, draping it over her shoulders.

  “Thank you,” she said stiffly, rubbing the material along her skin to wick up the moisture. Terrin moved away, his back toward her. She stood and dried her legs, then wrapped the material around her heavy hair.

  Terrin approached her again, eliciting a squeal from Lyra as she attempted to cover her breasts and the triangle between her legs. His jaw clenched as he handed her a large black shirt, and he kept his eyes on hers.

  “This is my spare shirt--” he said. Lyra snatched it out of his hand and covered herself with the thick material.

  “I’d offer you my pants but I don’t think they’d do you much good. You’re welcome to use my sleeping bag tonight.”

  She pulled the shirt on, the hem landing mid thigh. Then she grabbed Terrin's coat from his outstretched hand and shrugged that on. It covered her almost entirely, shielding her from the vicious cold. She snuggled deeply into the collar and eyed his form, the black shirt and pants he wore. He seemed no more affected by the cold than the oak trees surrounding them.