Lights of Aurora (The Stone Legacy Series Book 3)

by Theresa Dalayne

  “Oh, sorry.” She’d have to answer Tara once they landed. Plus, she had no idea what to say. “You’re totally right, I’m a jerk?” That wouldn’t exactly help things.

  The flight attendant moved on when Zanya tucked her phone away. She rested her head on Arwan’s shoulder and sighed. “Tara’s mad. You think she’ll forgive me?”

  Arwan kissed the top of her head. “Of course. You’re her best friend. She’ll understand.”

  She wanted to believe him.

  Half an hour after takeoff, the Fasten Seat Belt sign finally pinged off. Zanya unbuckled, reached under the chair, and pulled out a small leather book from her pack. Renato had “borrowed” it from Contessa’s shelves and apparently thought it was important enough that she needed to read it on the flight.

  The front cover was engraved with a giant tree inside a circle. There were three levels inside the circle. The first danced above the branches, the second lingered in the middle, and the last—most ominous of worlds—was trapped beneath the tree’s enormous roots, deep underground.

  The title on the first page of the book read Yaxche and Xibalba.

  She had read about both of these in the scribe journals from Renato’s library. A smile tugged at her lips. She missed that house. It had only taken a few weeks for her to feel at home there.

  Zanya turned her attention back to the book. Yaxche was the tree of life that spanned from the heavens to the middleworld and down to the underworld. Long ago, the Maya had understood that the earth spun on an axis. The ancient enchanted tree was that axis. It secured the planet in place and connected all three worlds. Yaxche was not only earth’s stabilizer, but a portal, and Zanya suspected they would have to eventually travel through the massive trunk to find Houn, the god of death.

  “Hey.” She tilted the book toward Arwan. “Do you know much about Yaxche?” When he didn’t respond, she looked up and saw he was asleep. Zanya lowered the book into her lap. Some rest would do him good. She yawned. Maybe it would do her some good, too.

  She tucked the book under her leg and crossed her arms, then laid her head on Arwan’s shoulder. He drew in a deep, sleepy breath and pressed his cheek against her head. As she rested, her mind drifted into semi-consciousness.

  A voice wove through her exhausted mind.

  You will be mine, whether by force or compliance. Make no mistake.

  She shuddered at the snaky hiss of Sarian’s words. Her dream state deepened, paired with an image of Tara’s bright hazel eyes.

  “How could you leave without telling me?” The broken tone of her friend’s voice stabbed at her.

  Another image formed behind her lids. A book—the one Zanya had first seen in a dream, then again in her vision when Sarian had broken the obedience spell. Its pages flipped faster and faster until they stopped. Blood seeped from the yellowed parchment.

  The image of Renato shaking his head as he stood on the patio in Victorian London.

  Sarian in his beastly form fighting against Arwan, who moved with almost inhuman speed and accuracy.

  “He does not need help.” Renato’s gaze finally met hers, and the depth of sadness in his eyes nearly took her breath away. “Arwan is not who you think he is.”

  Zanya opened her eyes and sat up, rubbing her face. “What the hell was that?” She clutched Cualli’s pendant, running her fingers over the smooth curves until her heartbeat returned to normal.

  With her three crutches—her stone, her music, and Cualli’s pendant—she hadn’t had a panic attack in months. But Sarian had clearly broken into her mind and didn’t intend on leaving. Her night terrors—more accurately, Sarian’s blatant intrusions into her dreams—had always been isolated to a deep sleep. Now they were everywhere. His hold on her stone had taken its toll, and unless she figured out a way to stop him, his invasions would undoubtedly become much worse.

  ***

  Arwan

  Arwan watched out the bus window as trees and small village huts flew past. He and Zanya had been traveling for almost two hours on a route that would bring them to the entrance of the caves.

  He frowned at the dark circles casting deep shadows under Zanya’s eyes. She must not have gotten any sleep on the plane. Perhaps she was ill, though that was unlikely for a guardian with the ability to heal. Like Peter, her healing powers made her nearly immune to middleworld sickness.

  Still, she hadn’t been acting normally over the last few days. Headaches and lethargy were obvious signs something had happened that she didn’t want to tell him about. Something more serious than her concern over Tara or her heartache over Jayden.

  He too carried worry in his heart, and just like Zanya was doing to him now, he hadn’t told her the entire truth either.

  Maybe it was just a matter of time for them both.

  The bus slowed to a stop, delivering them to their destination. They had taken the route to the back entrance of the caves, surrounded by dense jungle and heavy overgrowth.

  The government authorities had restricted tourist access to the front side of the caves years ago, but the area would still be crawling with photographers and small-time archeologists, all of whom would have a watchful eye on the glyphs, and thus anyone going in or out.

  Arwan checked his watch. There was still about two hours before sundown. They both needed their strength to hike, especially because it wasn’t Zanya’s strongest skill. He’d packed energy bars in her bag, though he had no idea how long they’d be stuck in the cave.

  A cave his mother had once crawled out from.

  A cave he wished he could forget.

  He pictured the drawings hung on his bedroom wall at home. His mother’s face was calming and somehow torturous at the same time. But he wouldn’t forget her. She was the reason he still lived, while his father was the reason she had been ripped from his life when he was just a boy.

  Zanya massaged small circles over her temples, her eyes closed and her skin visibly clammy.

  He brushed his hand against her leg. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  She drew in her bottom lip and sat back in her seat. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

  The single door at the front of the bus screeched open. They had a long journey ahead, and he had to be mentally prepared for whatever was to come. “We’re up.” He grabbed his bag while Zanya stood, and followed her down the aisle and outside, onto the dusty ground.

  It was the wet season, but there hadn’t been rain in weeks. The earth was cracked and the air was dry. Many of the locals probably suspected the gods were angry. Telltale signs proved his suspicion true as they strode down the wide dirt road between huts and small bakeries selling freshly made flatbread. Offerings lay scattered along the ground, some in basins, and others lying in beds of banana leaves. What was left of the river lazily flowed downstream, over shiny pebbles and old stumps that hung on to the compacted silt.

  The town had changed since he’d last visited. Boxy televisions were propped in the corner of several outdoor market stalls, and many of the villagers had cell phones pressed to their ears. It was as if the life had been drained from the rich culture of their Maya descendants, all of whom had nearly forgotten the honor and greatness of their history. Instead of building great cities, they wove blankets, carved colorful trinkets, and sold small statues of the abandoned temples, once the pride of their nation.

  At least this village was one of the few without Catholic churches towering over the ruins. Instead of Christmas, this small community still celebrated winter solstice—and had, since Arwan could remember.

  The shortest day of the year marked the beginning of longer days, but more importantly for Riyata, the time in which bonds of the soul were made. He felt it coming, deep in his bones. All the years he had observed the solstice, celebration the coming season. It was the only surviving link to his lineage that he’d kept as part of his life.

  A statue of the rain deity, Chaac, stood in the center of the town with offerings scattered around him. Basins of fresh water
lay near the statue’s feet, and hand-strung beads hung from the lightning ax gripped in Chaac’s hand.

  Some still believed.

  An elderly woman sat beside the statue with a wicker basket nestled in her lap, begging for scraps of food. Her meek frame was buried under layers of tattered clothes and a shroud of fabric draped over her hair.

  Arwan paused beside her. The painted markings on her hands and forehead meant she was a village elder. When he was part of the community, elders were respected.

  He reached in his bag and found an energy bar. If giving it to her meant he’d go hungry, so be it.

  He broke away from Zanya and walked toward the woman. Her wrinkled face turned up as he approached, and her gaze followed him down when he crouched beside her.

  The emptiness in her eyes told of extended neglect and hunger. He placed the food in her basket. He hadn’t spoken his native tongue in such a long time, but she was a Maya villager from the old tribe—probably one of the last—and most likely didn’t understand anything but Yucatan. Shame weighed on his shoulders. He hung his head, all but having forgotten how to greet her properly.

  Her shaky hands reached out and rested on his forearm. His heart weighed heavy to see his people begging on the street. To find her begging beside a statue of Chaac was worse. It was a common practice among beggars to sit beside a statue of a deity in hope those withholding charity would feel guilty and be more compelled to give.

  It had come to that.

  The people’s hearts had turned cold.

  He stood and glanced back at Zanya waiting for him on the far side of the dirt road. Her head was hung, her gaze cast to the ground. It was obvious she understood the elder’s situation was grim.

  Arwan gave the woman the respect she deserved by resting his hand on top of her head, wishing her well on her journey through the underworld, to the heavens, once she passed. It probably wouldn’t be long.

  She stilled, and her eyes slowly shut. She understood what was happening.

  He was telling her good-bye.

  As he stood, he dropped a few coins in her basket—as much as he could spare. Perhaps she could buy food, or a good night’s rest in a suitable bed.

  Arwan walked back to Zanya’s side. She took his hand. Her warmth was the only remaining link he had to mankind.

  “That was really nice of you,” she said with a gentle smile. Her gaze moved to the woman. “It’s so sad.” She squeezed his hand.

  He checked his watch. “We have about an hour to be in town. Let’s get something to eat before we start the hike.”

  She sighed. “Hiking. Right. I wish I knew where I was going, I could have transported ahead.”

  “But you don’t, and I would really rather you stay close. Just in case.” He draped his arm over her shoulder. She had no idea how badly he needed to be close to her, though he still couldn’t explain why. When he’d met her, he hadn’t expected the connection would be so strong. The bond wasn’t just physical but something tangible that linked them together. He just hoped what was soon to come wouldn’t tear them apart.

  ***

  Zanya

  The uneven ground pushed against the bottom of Zanya’s feet as she followed Arwan over the game path that stretched from the village’s eastern border of the jungle. At least that’s what Arwan had told her. She couldn’t tell east from west if her life depended on it.

  “How much longer do we have?” She took a few quick steps to catch up to him.

  He tipped his face toward the sky. A bead of sweat ran down his temple. “We have about three miles to go, but the terrain’s going to get more difficult.” He examined the thick foliage on either side of the trail.

  She grabbed her water bottle from the side pocket of her backpack and gulped down half of her supply.

  Arwan’s eyes narrowed as he came to a complete stop.

  Zanya swallowed the rest of her mouthful and poured some into her palm. She patted the back of her neck and fanned at her damp skin. “What’s wrong?”

  He pressed his finger to his lips as his gaze darted through the trees.

  Zanya froze. The only sounds were the distant screeches of monkeys and a few birds in the branches above them—typical jungle soundtrack.

  After a moment, he finally spoke. “I thought I heard something. Let’s keep going.”

  “Okay. But what did you think you heard?” She slipped her water bottle back in her backpack and tried to keep up.

  “There are a lot of things we need to be careful of. You aren’t used to being out here, so I’m just being cautious.”

  She glanced around. “Cautious of what?”

  “I’m not trying to scare you.” He guided her over a sudden incline in the path.

  “I won’t get freaked out. I promise.” A promise she’d probably break in about five seconds, but she needed to know what they were dealing with. They’d hiked together in Belize, but back then they’d traveled on well-known paths the tribes had used to collect water and visit each other. Now they were on a barely discernible game trail in the middle of nowhere—totally different story.

  He exhaled. “Tigers, elephants, snakes…” He paused and turned toward the greenery.

  He sensed something was out there. That much was clear.

  His grip slid from her hand up to her wrist.

  His focus intensified by the second. “Go. Walk ahead of me.”

  “Why?” She gripped his arm.

  “So I can keep an eye on you.”

  She walked ahead, her senses tuned to every noise, every twig that snapped in the trees, every chirping bird—

  Zanya paused. The birds. They’d all gone quiet. Something had spooked them, and she had a feeling that whatever it was, it was still close by.

  Chapter Three

  The twilight skies were streaked with hues of red and pink when Zanya followed Arwan out of the canopy of trees. An area bare of foliage lay straight ahead. They were supposed to make it to the mouth of the cave by nightfall, but considering they hadn’t reached it yet—probably thanks to her short stride—that was probably not going to happen.

  “What are we going to do?”

  Arwan dropped his pack on the ground. “We need to make camp. It’s almost dark, and we need to collect firewood. This is a good spot for us to spend the night.”

  Zanya groaned. “I figured as much.” They didn’t have any real shelter, and there were more bugs than she could fathom, all of them probably waiting for her to doze off so they could crawl over her face. She cringed. “What if it rains? We’ll get soaked.”

  “It hasn’t rained in weeks, and I doubt it will rain tonight. The skies are too clear.”

  “Oh. Right.” She’d have to learn how to look for signs like that. She rolled her shoulders and let the pack hit the ground with a thud. Throbbing pain pulsed through her neck and upper back. “Ugh.” She reached across her chest and massaged the knot.

  “I’ll gather firewood. You can get out your sleeping bag and—” He pointed to some rocks near the path. “If you can gather some stones and make a circle for a fire pit that would be helpful.” He unzipped his hoodie and tossed it beside his backpack, revealing the muscles packed under his T-shirt.

  Heat spread through her body, and she cleared her throat. “Sure, no problem.”

  “I won’t be gone for long. Yell if anything happens. I won’t be far.”

  She bit her lip in an attempt to suppress a smile. “Thanks for being so worried about me.”

  He examined her with a quirky grin. The kind of grin that made her heart skip a beat and her breath hitch. “You’re the guardian. You don’t need me around to protect you. You just think you do.”

  An hour later, the sun was all but gone by the time Zanya finished organizing the stones into a circle. She wiped her dusty hands on her pants and unzipped her bag and then spotted Arwan’s pack. He hadn’t returned with the firewood yet. He must have been gathering enough for the whole night.

  It would be helpf
ul if she got his sleeping bag out, too. He’d have to build the fire when he returned—God knows she had no clue how to do it.

  Twigs cracked behind her, and Zanya spun and fell back on her butt, her palms pressed against the warm earth. She scanned the tree line. Too bad it was dark and she couldn’t see anything but a thick wall of foliage.

  “Arwan?” Her voice came out in a squeak. She cleared her throat and slowly stood, her focus never leaving the jungle. “Arwan?” Another crack sounded from in the trees. Zanya scanned the branches until she spotted a huge white owl perched on a branch just above her.

  She exhaled and rested her hand on her chest. A smile crept over her lips. “Oh thank God. It’s just an owl.” The creature looked down at her inquisitively, rotating its head from side to side. It was beautiful. Large, with caramel-brown feathers outlining its heart-shaped face. The moonlight shimmered against the bird’s feathers.

  It hopped toward her down the branch, seemingly unafraid. Though out here, it probably didn’t have any reason to fear people. Zanya stepped closer, her focus on the bird’s almond-shaped eyes that analyzed her every move.

  She smacked her lips and extended her hand, rubbing the tips of her fingers together. “Hey, beautiful. What are you doing here?” Her voice turned to a soft coo as she waited for it to move closer. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.”

  More twigs snapped behind her and she turned, sure she’d see Arwan walking toward her with a huge stack of wood piled in his arms.

  There was only darkness and silence.

  Zanya dropped her hand to her side, her eyes wide. A soft growl radiated through the night. She stepped back, her senses on high alert.

  She gripped the wicker emblem hung around her neck, and for the first time since London, her stone spoke to her.

  Its whispers morphed to static. A spike of adrenaline tore through her. She rushed to her backpack and ripped open the zipper.

  With the stone cupped in her hands, she shifted away from the cluster of bushes in front of her. Her breath stalled when her gaze met a pair of pale yellow eyes peering at her from the foliage.