by Rosalie Redd
Members of his brood sat on the overstuffed couch and the wing-backed chairs that lined the perimeter of the living room. A newer inductee still had a few wisps of hair hanging from his almost-bald head. He appeared to survive the change from human to Gossum without any ill effects. They always did. Humans were such easy prey. Easy to catch, easy to convert. Most of the new members came from the seedy side of Portland where it was simpler to hide their disappearance from their normal, human lives.
Ram cast a look at his first lieutenant. “Well, where’s the basement?”
“This way.” Jakar headed into the kitchen. He pointed to a door, the edges rough with age. “Down there.”
“By all means, lead the way,” Ram said.
Jakar bowed. “As you wish, my lord.”
With a loud squeak, the door opened on rusty hinges. The sound was like rock grinding against rock, reminding him of his fall into the river at the hand of his nemesis. His claws extended from his fingers. He wanted to lash out at someone, anything to ease his mounting frustration. In the last battle, he’d lost to Noeh, and he didn’t know how much time he’d have before Zedron paid him a visit. If he didn’t have something to offer the finicky god, he’d die a painful death and never get the chance to prove to his ex-wife, Sheri, that he wasn’t a failure. He shivered.
Jakar climbed down the long flight of stairs. A bare bulb in the middle of the ceiling provided a small measure of light, but Ram didn’t need it. The temperature decreased with each step, and the smell of damp earth and rotting vegetables grew as he descended. If he’d had any hair on his bald head, it would’ve stood on end. He missed having hair—his cap didn’t quite fit the same way anymore.
When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he stopped. A jolt of excitement raced along his spine, and he held his breath. Before him, the room spread out in a large arc. Bottles, beakers, lab equipment, and assorted sundries lay on the large workbench. His heart beat in a fast rhythm. He had a lab again, and that was a wonderful thing.
When they captured another Lemurian, he had all he needed to extract the blood and create another serum. This time, Ram wouldn’t fail. Once he had their preternatural powers, he and his brood would bring down the Keep and all its inhabitants. Then, they could enslave the humans and start transporting water back to Lemuria.
He scanned the room. Scattered among the glass beakers and metal bowls lay an assortment of tools—screwdrivers, hammers, pliers—probably left over from the prior tenant.
Ram glanced at his first lieutenant. His loyalty was unusual among the Gossum. Must’ve been Ram’s good timing. He’d saved Jakar from an ass-fuck by two guys in an alley. Ram had killed the attackers and bit Jakar, transforming him into a Gossum. His first lieutenant’s loyalty had paid off, big time. “You outdid yourself.”
Jakar shrugged. “It is to your liking then, excellent. While you were…indisposed, I had the brood work on expanding this room. As you can see, the back corner was excavated with plenty of space for prisoners. You shall have all that you require.”
Ram laughed so hard his body shook. His fingers tingled, and he was eager to begin the search. Maybe he still had a chance to please his god, Zedron, and win this war. Now, all they needed was some Lemurian blood. “Let’s break out the vodka. We need to fuel up before the hunt.”
Chapter Five
Aramie peered through the branches of a young fir tree. The wet needles still held on to the recent rain, and a drop of water landed on her arm. Even in the dark, her night vision picked out small details, like the mouse quivering next to a fallen log. Somewhere in the vast forest was a sacred pool, one with a gem that might heal Demir. Could she find it? A nugget of doubt crept into her mind.
She’d searched with her sister Sidea for the past three nights, but the hallowed lake had eluded them. When she’d asked Gaetan about the mythical place, his eyes had brightened, and he’d chuckled. His words echoed in her mind. Blue Pool doesn’t exist. It’s a legend.
Aramie wouldn’t believe that, she couldn’t. In the Panthera culture, myths were always based on truth, so Blue Pool had to exist, somewhere. She had to find the crystal. Her encounter with Ginnia in the Hall of Scriptures emerged in her mind. The Stiyaha seer had walked through the many stacks of ancient books until she’d found a small volume with a red cover. Her eyes had twinkled and she’d flipped through the pages, stopping on a sheet with a picture of a blue crystal.
Aramie’s hands shook as she’d accepted the tome from the strange female. Her heart had pounded, the text swimming before her eyes. The ancient cuneiform writing held the answer to her prayer—a way to help Demir. She’d memorized the archaic story, word for word.
Tenida raised the blue crystal into the night air. Its brilliance outshone the moon. The stone had healed Grian, the greatest of warriors, the one who’d sacrificed himself for another. Standing at the base of a large waterfall, the old haelen threw the crystal into the pool to hide it from the enemy. A brilliant flash of light erupted from the water, turning the color to a deep blue and stopping the waterfall’s flow. The healer spoke, his voice booming through the trees. “The stone shall rest here until needed once again.”
Maybe Blue Pool was a myth as the Stiyaha healer presumed. She bit her lip. No, she wouldn’t give in to her skepticism. She needed to believe the place existed—for Demir’s sake, as well as her own.
Sidea crept next to her. “What is it? Why did you stop?”
Jonue and Kitani flanked them on either side. When she’d asked them to join her tonight to look for the sacred crystal, they hadn’t hesitated. Leon had balked at the idea of Kitani leaving the Keep on this trek, and Jonue’s mate, Hallan, hadn’t reacted much better. As leader, Aramie had insisted. Another wedge between her and the males wasn’t what she needed, but she didn’t trust them to help her at this point.
The frigid wind whipped through Aramie’s hair, stinging her cheeks. Carried along on the breeze—the bitter tang of her ageless enemy, the Gossum. Aramie’s claws extended from her closed fist, piercing the soft flesh of her palm.
Sidea placed a hand on Aramie’s shoulder. “We’re in Gossum territory.”
Aramie grasped her sister’s fingers, the close contact like a salve on a wound. “Yes, but we’re close. We must continue.” Aramie glanced at Jonue and Kitani. “Are you ready?”
Kitani’s eyes lit up when she smiled. “I’ve longed to return to battle ever since I mated to Leon.”
“I can’t wait. Bring it on.” Jonue stared straight ahead, her hand clutched over her throwing stars. Her smooth, dark hair reflected the small bit of light from the waxing moon.
Aramie smiled. Should they encounter any Gossum, her females would make her proud.
“Let’s go.” Aramie headed deeper into the forest, following the river. Even in the depths of winter, the remains of overgrown blackberry bushes, rhododendrons, and azaleas impeded their path, making their journey difficult. Forced to the edge of the small ravine, they followed the river, away from the protection of the forest.
Sidea stopped. “The scent of Gossum is stronger.”
Sidea’s hair hung around her cheeks and dark circles rimmed her eyes. Aramie worried about her sister, always had, ever since their mother had walked out on them when they were children. The bitter sting of her mother’s last words still echoed in Aramie’s mind. “Aramie, I’m heading out—to find more food. Take care of your sister while I’m gone, you hear?” Her mother had left with a small knapsack over her shoulder. That was the last time Aramie had ever seen her.
Aramie shook her head to clear her mind. The last thing she needed was the distraction of the female who’d taught her how to build walls around her heart. She steeled herself for the task at hand.
Sidea’s soft touch on her arm brought Aramie back to the present. “Did you hear me? We’ve been out here for hours and this is our fourth river. With the Gossum around…I think we should call for a portal. We can come back again tomorrow.”
Aramie
glanced at her two warriors. Jonue had a rip in the sleeve of her shirt, most likely from a stray tree branch. Kitani’s pants were covered in mud and sweat stains marred her shirt.
Her sister was right. Aramie didn’t want to stop searching, but she’d put them in danger by bringing them so far into Gossum territory. If they stayed much longer, they’d risk seeing the sunrise and face exposure to the sun’s killing rays. Ever since their goddess, Alora, had interfered directly in the war, breaking the most sacred rule of the game, all of Alora’s characters were relegated to the night. A knot formed in Aramie’s stomach. They needed to return to the Keep.
Chapter Six
Noeh unsheathed his sword. The blade vibrated, sending a shiver up his arm. He stroked the handle, the sunstones embedded in the gold heating from his touch. “We’re practicing, my friend. No killing this evening.” He leaned his favorite weapon against the stone wall and picked up a wooden sparring sword.
Saar slid the chain into place, locking the antechamber’s door. Noeh had asked his Commander of Arms to join him in the private room, away from the main training facility and the other warriors with their unwanted, curious eyes.
Saar leaned against the heavy wooden door. A toothpick dangled from his lip, twisting the scar that ran across his face into a strange grimace. “You ready?”
Ever since Melissa had the baby, Noeh had been preoccupied with ensuring his queen and their son, Anlon, had everything they needed. He’d never realized taking care of a newborn could be so much work. After nearly losing them both, he hadn’t left their side. Not until Melissa had had enough of his hovering and shooed him out of the royal chamber.
Adrenaline raced along his nerves. A spar was exactly what he needed. “Yes, my body craves a good workout.”
The skin around Saar’s eyes wrinkled, and his lips moved as if he’d spoken.
Noeh couldn’t quite make out the words, but by the smirk on Saar’s face, he’d given Noeh a verbal jab. Noeh shook his free hand, eager to expel the extra energy coursing through his veins. He raised his sword and crouched into a fighting stance. The combat would relieve some of his tension and get his head back into the war with the Gossum. “What’s taking you so long?”
Saar stepped away from the door and grabbed his own sparring sword. Raising his weapon, he circled Noeh, his eyes focused, narrowed.
Leaning against the wall, Noeh’s sword visibly quivered, emitting a cry, but the sound seemed muted, as if far off in the distance. The noise should’ve pierced his ear, ricocheting around the antechamber.
Craya. I’m almost deaf.
As they circled each other, Noeh relied on his other senses to track his opponent. He focused on Saar’s movements, his small tells, like how his eye twitched before he struck. And…there it was.
Saar’s sword crashed down, connecting with Noeh’s blade. The two warriors strained and pressed blade against blade. Noeh twisted his body, throwing Saar off balance. The tip of his sword came dangerously close to his friend’s nose.
Before Noeh could pull back for another strike, Saar clipped him on the shoulder. A drop of blood bloomed on his white shirt. The wooden swords were sharp enough to mark, but not strong enough to do serious damage. Noeh clenched his teeth. The sting was a reminder he wasn’t invincible. “Nice shot.”
Saar circled Noeh and winked. “Would…y…ike another?”
Only pieces of the words filtered into Noeh’s brain. He gripped his sword tighter. His fingers turned white with strain. A growl erupted from his throat as his beast woke. He came at Saar, unleashing all his pent-up frustration on his friend.
Swords clashed together in a blur. Blood welled from a nick on Noeh’s forearm and another on his thigh. Noeh pressed forward, forcing Saar to parry.
A sharp sting bit into Noeh’s forehead. Wetness dripped in front of his eye. The room turned red with each drop. A nick on his forearm, another on his thigh, yet a third on his cheek. He listened for the sound of Saar’s blade—
In a swift, surprising move, Saar undercut him with the back of his sword. Pain blossomed in Noeh’s leg. He landed on the mat, his breath escaping in a whoosh.
The tip of Saar’s blade dimpled the skin under Noeh’s chin. He glanced at his Commander of Arms. Saar’s brow furrowed, his face tightening. “Another round?”
A bead of frustration wriggled its way into Noeh’s gut. He gritted his teeth. “Again.”
On his feet, he focused on his opponent, watching, waiting. Saar attacked, and their blades met in mid-air. Noeh’s muscles shook, but he didn’t relent. He’d defeated Saar many times in previous sparring matches, he’d do so again.
Saar released the pressure. Noeh swung at him from below. Before he knew what happened, Noeh found himself on the floor.
The second round ended the same as the first, only this time he was on his stomach, the tip of Saar’s sword digging into his back. A sudden coldness filled Noeh’s veins. How could this happen?
The pressure in his back eased, and Noeh clambered to his feet. He stared at his Commander of Arms. Saar lowered the blade in deference to his king, but his gaze met Noeh’s. The two evaluated each other, neither giving way.
Saar’s brow creased. “….going on?”
Noeh looked away, the first time he’d ever broken eye contact with an opponent, even if it was only a sparring match. He ran his hand through his hair, his body trembling as the truth crashed down on him. His hearing loss, his one weakness that wouldn’t heal, would be lethal on the battlefield.
Hadn’t he learned that from Demir? The Panthera leader had taken a dart intended for him because Noeh hadn’t heard it coming. Demir had ended up in a coma as a result. Noeh hadn’t trusted the arrogant Panthera leader, but after his unselfish sacrifice, he’d earned Noeh’s faith. Noeh prayed Demir would wake from his darkness soon. He could use the extra support from Demir and his Panthera Pride.
Saar’s palm landed on Noeh’s shoulder and his friend gave him a firm squeeze. Noeh peered at his toughest warrior and good friend. “T…me.”
Tell me. Noeh read his lips more than he actually heard the words.
A great weight descended on his shoulders. He wanted to rant at the Gods, scream at them for creating this war, but then a vision of Melissa, and their son, Anlon, crept into his mind. Without Alora’s help, they wouldn’t be in his life. They’d be dead…at the hands of that traitor—Mauree. He exhaled and rubbed his eyes.
Saar stepped back, and the movement brought Noeh out of his reverie. His friend frowned and shook his head. “How….help?”
Noeh picked up his sparring sword from the floor and put it back in the rack. Retrieving his favorite weapon, he placed the blade back in his scabbard. He tapped the handle with his ring, the movement comforting despite the fact that he could no longer hear the familiar ting of metal on metal. “There’s nothing you can do for me, but thank you for the offer, my friend.”
He walked over to one of the tables lining the wall. A pitcher filled with water and several cups were displayed on an elegant tablecloth, along with an assortment of fruit, all thanks to the Jixies, the Stiyaha’s helpers. He poured a drink and handed the cup to Saar, then filled his own.
Saar took a sip, and placed the mug back on the table. “Let…try.”
Noeh laughed, the only response he could deal with given the circumstances. “If you can fix my ears…” He shrugged.
His friend leaned forward, his brows creasing. “Are…deaf?”
Noeh nodded. “Almost, and soon will be.” He glanced at his Commander of Arms.
Saar’s mouth fell open, his eyes wide.
“I can’t go out on the battlefield. I’m a danger to others.” Noeh’s chest tightened. The words were like a blade thrust into his gut. He was king, not only of the Stiyaha, but of all the Lemurian races. How could he lead his warriors if he couldn’t fight?
He held Saar’s gaze. His friend’s eyes shifted back and forth as he evaluated him. At last, Saar dropped to his knees, his fist wrapp
ed around the hilt of his own sword. “…You…forever…my king.”
Noeh’s heart rate spiked, sending a rush of endorphins into his bloodstream. His friend’s devotion was more than he could handle. He placed his palm on Saar’s shoulder. “Rise, my friend.”
“Who knows?” Saar’s words were but a whisper to Noeh’s ears.
“Melissa, Gaetan, and now, you. I’d like to keep it that way, at least for now.”
“As…wish…Majesty.”
Noeh closed his eyes and let his friend’s loyalty fill him. As king, he’d do what was necessary to win this war, even if it meant leading from the throne.
Chapter Seven
The quiet in the room and his rhythmic breathing left Demir on the edge of sleep. He’d fought against his invisible bonds for so long, his tired mind couldn’t resist the lull of slumber. In and out of consciousness, he finally succumbed to the dream.
Demir walked into the forest, eager to escape the spring ritual and all the Panthera that had gathered in the clearing. Some came from far off Prides to exchange knowledge and information about their enemy. Others came to find a mate. Demir wasn’t interested in either, but since his father died, he’d become Pride leader and had to attend. Demir clenched his fist. The last thing he wanted was a mate.
The woods swallowed him, surrounding him with ever deepening brush and trees. Even the glow from the moon struggled to reach the ground. Far enough from the celebration, the sounds of the forest permeated his senses—frogs croaking, crickets singing.
He inhaled, soaking in the night air. A scent, like spiced apples, made him still. I’m not alone. With silent stealth, he crouched behind a large boulder and surveyed the forest. Shadows stretched into grotesque shapes amid the underbrush. He bided his time, out-waiting the intruder.
Movement to his right caught his attention. The muscles in his thighs tensed. Ready to attack, he sprung from his hideout. The interloper ran. Demir followed in hot pursuit.