Journey of the Wanderer

by Shawna Thomas

  Journey of the Wanderer

  By Shawna Thomas

  Book four of The Triune Stones

  To fulfill her destiny as the Wanderer of legend, Ilythra needs to find the last of the Triune Stones. But its music has gone silent, its owner, the dark sorcerer Bredych, nowhere to be seen except in her dreams. Dreams that are getting ever more frequent, and more troubling.

  Unrest is sweeping the land, and Ilythra’s allies are paying the price as Bredych subsumes more and more kingdoms to his will. Armed with only her sword and her friends—stoic elderborn Arien and passionate warrior-prince Ryliann—she sets out to win her people back and train them to fight for themselves.

  Her cause is clear, but her feelings for the two completely different yet equally admirable men, less so. With the fate of both humanity and elderborn on the line, how can she dare choose love over her destiny?

  Find out how it all began in Journey of Awakening.

  97,000 words

  Dear Reader,

  My vow to you is to not mention the holiday that starts with a V in this letter for the February releases. If you’re like me, you’re probably on holiday overload after all of the winter festivities, and you wish you could just blank out all of those advertisements for diamonds and chocolates and fancy dinners. Of course, if someone wanted to buy us any of that, that would be okay...

  Instead, let me tell you about the sometimes-romantic and sometimes-not lineup of books we have for you this month! Fans of Alison Packard’s The Winning Season will be glad to know that JT and Angie’s story releases this month. Look for sparks to fly in Catching Heat. Author Christi Barth finishes up her Aisle Bound series with A Matchless Romance. You won’t want to miss this playful story about a sexy gamer who just needs a beautiful Chicago matchmaker to help him see how hot he really is.

  Also in the contemporary romance category is Party Girl by Tamara Morgan, following up her well-reviewed romance The Derby Girl. When a good-time party girl meets a backwoods hermit, the only thing bigger than their differences is their attraction. Fan favorite Inez Kelley joins the contemporary romance offerings this month with smoking-hot lumberman Jonah Alcott, who wants to do more than fight with gorgeous mountain activist Zury Castellano in The Place I Belong.

  Lynda Aicher brings her trademark sizzle to a new erotic romance story in her Wicked Play series. In her first male/male romance, Bonds of Denial, security nerd Rockford Fielding finally finds a man worth coming out of the closet for, but Carter Montgomery has to move past his own insecurities before they can claim a future they both thought was impossible.

  Opium addict and Victorian bounty hunter Cherry St. Croix is back again in Karina Cooper’s Tempered. Dragged to a neglected estate and forced to dry out, Cherry tries on the role of helpless Gothic heroine—and tumbles headlong into danger when she takes to meddling in her family’s alchemical history instead.

  Returning to Carina Press with a new series is Eleri Stone with the first book in her new paranormal romance series. In Reaper’s Touch, Jake and Abby work together to find a cure for the infection that turns men into flesh-eating monsters. We’re also welcoming back Jody Wallace with her newest paranormal romance, Witch Interrupted. Wolf shifters heal from tattoos as if they were never inked, so why is the same sexy wolf back in Katie’s tattoo parlor for more? And last but not least in the paranormal romance category, we’re also pleased to bring back Victoria Davies and her newest novella Demon by My Side. When a tempting demon prince crashes into her life, a demon hunter struggles to figure out who she can trust and one wrong move will cost her not only her heart but the safety of the human world as well.

  Concluding her wonderful epic fantasy series, Shawna Thomas wraps up with Journey of the Wanderer in which to save Anatar once and for all, Ilythra must risk everything she loves.

  But with every ending there’s a new beginning, and we’re happy to welcome male/male romance author A.M. Arthur to the Carina Press team. A reformed troublemaker meets his match in an inexperienced bookworm when what was supposed to be a casual relationship starts to look a lot like love in No Such Thing.

  And we’re happy to introduce debut author Holly West. Holly delivers a fascinating, well-plotted historical mystery, the first in a new series. In Mistress of Fortune, Isabel Wilde, a mistress to King Charles II who secretly makes her living as a fortune-teller, is threatened when one of her customers is murdered after revealing a conspiracy to kill the king and the diary of her illicit activities as a soothsayer goes missing, a page of which turns up in the dead man’s pocket.

  Coming in March: look for the newest installment in Marie Force’s Fatal series!

  Here’s wishing you a wonderful month of books you love, remember and recommend.

  Happy reading!

  ~Angela James

  Editorial Director, Carina Press

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to you, the reader. I know it might sound trite, but it’s not. It’s heartfelt. Without you, there would be no reason to publish. If you’ve only now picked up this book or you’ve been along for the entire journey, I thank you and I hope you’ve fallen or will fall in love with Ilythra as much as I have.

  To say it took a minor miracle to publish this book and this series would be an understatement. It took a series of minor miracles and many helping hands. I thank God first and foremost with whom all things, even finishing this series, are possible.

  Thank you to my husband for putting up with a messy house and piles of laundry during intense editing sessions and not complaining about the silence after the question “What’s for dinner?” that clearly said I’d forgotten all about dinner. And thank you for those times I’ve overheard you bragging that your wife is a writer. That means a lot.

  Heather. Words fail me. Thank you so much for your encouragement and your unfailing support. You were there when I needed someone to be there. Thank you.

  Rosemary, thank you for watching the baby-who-does-not-sleep. I couldn’t have finished this series without you. Jaimie, thank you for coming over at late notice to watch the baby. You are an awesome sister.

  To my neighbor, who reads all my books and gets excited when another one is coming out. You don’t know how many times that has brightened my day and encouraged me to get back to work. Thank you so much!

  Rhonda, you are the best editor ever. You’ve encouraged me and kicked me in my pants when I’ve needed it. Thank you.

  Crystal, my webmistress. Yeah, I know. I’m late with content. You’ll have to get that whip of yours out again. Thank you, my friend.

  To my children, who don’t really understand what Mom does at the computer but who someday will, I hope you will put in the work it takes to follow your dreams.

  I have to reach way back, but I would be remiss if I didn’t also thank Susan Jett and the others at OWW, who were there at the birth of this series. Thank you. Susan, you kept me on track and taught me so much. Thank you.

  And to Angela and the team at Carina. You all rock. I thank you for your support and hard work.

  Contents

  Part One

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Part Two

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen
/>
  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Part Three

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Part One

  The song of Ilydearta rose in response to the proximity of its sister stone. Their songs entangled, harmonies playing off one another until the melody was more than the sum of its parts. She breathed it in, let it bathe her. Power surged through her veins, energy erasing the weariness of the road, renewing, remaking her into more than she could ever be alone and filling her with peace.

  Chapter One

  Greton.

  Not much remained of the castle—a few walls held up a single crumbling turret. The rest was rubble. The field surrounding the castle was worse. Rocks lay strewn across the grasslands as though thrown from a giant’s hand. She could almost hear the screams of the dying, the battle cries, the roar of the rocks as they surged from deep beneath the earth, and above it all, the uneven, tortured song of Crioch, Bredych’s stone.

  A cool breeze brushed the hair from her face. Ilythra stared across the valley, absently noting the rich scent of freshly turned soil and new leaves. Every muscle in her body tensed as she strained to catch something on the winds of Teann, the lifebreath of the Universe. She wanted to understand why she was drawn to this place. She’d expected to feel more: humiliation, frustration, fear, anger, something. But only the desperate need to hear the song beat in her chest. Once again she searched the winds of Teann for some trace of Crioch, but just the faint sound of Ealois, Ewen’s stone, could be heard.

  The forests were as she remembered them. Deep and vibrant, they blanketed the valley floor and grew up the side of the mountains until rock and snow won over living things. The early morning sun hadn’t chased away the fog dancing between tall green pine trees. Entranced by the play of light on the mists, she watched as the rays of the sun refracted against the vapid fog, created shimmering rainbows of color that disappeared as quickly as they formed.

  Ilythra swallowed past a suddenly dry throat. The fog reminded her of her dreams that disappeared upon waking, leaving only the taint of unease. She’d dreamed of Bredych but couldn’t remember anything else about them.

  She wanted answers. Where was Bredych? Why couldn’t she hear Crioch? And if she was free from him, why did Bredych still haunt her dreams?

  Her gaze turned back toward the castle. It had been a near thing. She’d almost lost not only the battle, but Ilydearta, the Waymaker, to Bredych. She gripped the pendant, letting the smooth hum of Teann calm her nerves.

  Bredych had disappeared from the face of Anatar, and with him, Crioch. Not even a whisper of the stone had been heard on the winds of Teann for over two years.

  Where was he? Anger and frustration warred in her breast. Her gaze roamed the rubble. The tunnels had all collapsed, decimating the castle and the surrounding landscape. Even the lake had moved, seeping into the ground and forming underground rivers and pools.

  Was Bredych buried under the stone and earth? She shook her head. Every instinct in her body said no. Said he was even now planning something worse than conquering the eastern kingdoms. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he would have had an escape route. He’d been waiting too long. Besides, somehow, he visited her in her sleep with increasing frequency. He was alive. But where?

  She blew out a breath and surveyed the village below. She’d found acceptance and safety in the ramshackle huts that made up the village. Nenya proved that nobility did not belong to the nobles. The village woman had risked her life and the life of her child to hide Ilythra and Mohan, her Benai rescuer, from Bredych’s wrath.

  Later, when she and Mohan had found Res, Nenya’s husband, enslaved in the Har Neider Mountains, Res had fought alongside them, helping to rescue his fellow slaves from Bredych’s Rugians, the barbaric hordes under his command.

  Somewhere down there in the misty valley, did Nenya and Res fight to live off the tortured land, or were they under the ground like so many others?

  There was no sound in the forest behind her, but her body tensed. She remained immobile, didn’t turn toward the forest, but there was no doubt in her mind. She was no longer alone.

  * * *

  His father made a noise of frustration behind him, but Ryliann took a moment to stare out the window and collect his thoughts. It was a risky choice—his father’s temper was legendary—but a necessary one. Ryliann was not known for his equanimity either.

  The trees in the courtyard below had exploded with new flowers seemingly overnight. He blinked, watching the delicate shaded petals drifting toward the deep green grass. Wind-blown drifts of soft petals lay like snow against a rise in the lawn. In the window’s reflection, he could see his father sitting at his desk, staring at Ryliann’s back. An angry frown transformed the king’s usual slightly melancholy expression. Ryliann noted the deeper wrinkles across the forehead and scattered across his father’s cheeks. The once-dark hair was now laced with silver too. The king had aged recently. Or perhaps Ryliann just hadn’t noticed the graying. He’d been gone too long.

  He ground his teeth together. Last fall, he’d taken a battalion of men south to help the villagers fight against Creeian raiders and had been surprised by early winter storms. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cold glass. The raiders had never been so bold or attacked so late in the season. He’d returned as soon as the snow on the Steppes had melted enough for safe travel only to find his father changed and with a new advisor. Guilt more than anything deflated his anger. He should have found a way to make the journey last fall. He took a deep breath, careful not to let his shoulders rise too high. It would only further irritate his father. He ran a hand through his hair as he turned.

  “I don’t trust that man. There’s something...” He ran his fingers through his hair again in frustration. “What do you know about him?”

  His father’s jaw clenched and released. He took Ryliann’s concern as a challenge. When had that happened? King Jaryn used to welcome Ryliann’s opinion, even value it. But now? Ryliann wasn’t so sure his father cared to hear anything he had to say. Who was this man, Brishne? He’d come home expecting a warm welcome, ready to share with his father all the details of what happened along the southern coast and determine how best to defend the small villages against the increasing occurrence of Creeian raids.

  He’d discovered his father ambivalent at best to what was occurring in the south and preparing for an attack from the north, based on advice from his new counselor, Brishne.

  As soon as he’d met the man, the hair on the back of his neck had stood on end. It wasn’t jealousy. He’d examined his own motives thoroughly. Every instinct told him something was wrong. The guilt doubled. If he’d spent more time at the castle than training his men, maybe the counselor wouldn’t have had a chance to sway his father.

  “You judge him for something you can’t even name? He has counseled me wisely these past moons. He comes highly regarded from a distant cousin back east.” The tone of his father’s voice indicated the conversation was over. The king turned his attention to a parchment on his desk.

  “And?” Ryliann took a step forward. If he’d learned anything from his father, it was to trust his instincts. “Have you checked the story? Sent a dispatch to our distant cousin? He’d have you prepare for war with a rumor when the very real Creeians are attacking our villages. That doesn’t make sense.”

 
“Need I remind you I’m still king of this land?” His father shot to his feet. His face reddened. “I will choose my advisors. I allow you some latitude as heir, but do not question my decisions. The Siobani are a real threat.”

  His own anger rose in response. Ryliann shook his head. If the rumors were to be believed, the Siobani had attacked two small kingdoms far to the east. Were the legendary people real? He’d always wanted to believe it.

  As the king’s only heir, he’d been closely watched, but he’d gotten very good at sneaking in and out of places and staying relatively unseen. He’d heard a few stories about the Siobani when he should have been in bed; most of them contradicted the others.

  The traders spoke of the Siobani as a ghost-like people, stealing children from their beds. Some stories claimed they haunted the deep forests at night and became trees during the day. Some said they were jealous of humans and wished them all dead. He liked the Benai’s stories the best. They spoke of the Siobani with reverence. They called them Firstborn and said they’d been great healers and craftsmen. No one knew where they’d gone or why, but if they existed, no one had seen one in his lifetime.

  A burgeoning excitement he couldn’t explain filled his chest. If the Siobani were real... His joy plummeted. Why would they attack Edriel? Why would they attack two kingdoms in the east? And the very real and more pressing problem: the Creeians were working their way up the coast. Before too long, they’d be sailing the waters west of Edriel. That was the real threat.

  Frustration weighed his body. His shoulders slumped, and with them, his voice dropped. “Father, I mean no disrespect. This Brishne... I see the way he looks at you. I’ve seen how his words influence you. I don’t like it.”

  “Then don’t like it.” King Jaryn waved his hand and sat back down. Ryliann was relieved to see his color had returned to normal. “When you are king, you can select your own counselors. Your time will come. In fact, Ryliann, I’ve not pressed the issue, but the council is worried.”