Soulseeker

He dragged his mind back to the spirit plane, concentrating until he could feel his own presence there, and with it, Rian, trusting, a gift Hamon found beyond humbling.

  There were faint outlines of their bodies, as though their souls needed such a reminder of the other world, and then Hamon took Rian’s hand, and they stepped forward into the spirit plane.

  He felt exultation, pride, as he shared this greatest of his talents, abilities.

  To himself, he could admit, with a bit of humor, that he was preening, displaying himself to a mate. He had never considered himself to be so primal, but in the here and now, it was evident that he was less civilized than he had thought.

  Rian’s soul held to him tightly, fear and wonder evident as he stared at their surroundings. They traveled in stray bursts of time. Sometimes swiftly, sometimes as though their surroundings changed not at all.

  Hamon wanted to share every aspect of it, every…

  It was almost disappointing to see his father, standing waiting, his own form indistinct. Almost.

  They could not forget their true purpose. This place was beautiful—and equally deadly to those that tarried.

  His father viewed them, his form strong in this place, almost physical with the vast power he held. His dark eyes measured Rian, calm wisdom in their depths, before he held out his hand.

  Rian glanced at Hamon, fear in his eyes.

  Hamon nodded, squeezing his hand. “I am here,” he whispered. “I will not let you go.”

  He could feel Rian’s energy firm, determination and courage taking him forward, where his other hand rose, hesitated for the briefest of moment, before grasping the High Chief’s hand…

  Rian cried out, lost in chaos and blinding light. There was no sense of distance or place. No tether in this terrifyingly boundless space.

  Panic, flailing fear—but there—a bond, a line that led to…

  Hamon. Hamon still had hold of him, his energy brilliant in this moment, bright and beautiful and strong.

  Rian almost sobbed in relief, tried to steady his nerves against that initial terror. He could do this. He could.

  He could only dimly sense the High Chief now, as though he had moved beyond his touch to something else, something further that the man had guided him to.

  When his panic had subsided to manageable levels, the sense of displacement faded also. It was a place of power here, energy running in lines of color, surging wide, then narrowing in a heartbeat. Twining, then separating. Beautiful.

  He was so fascinated with their display that it took him a moment to realize there were forms congregating around him, not pressing close, not threatening, but not welcoming either, watching, a sense of judgment to their stares.

  Hamon drew closer, pressing against his back, more solid and present, drawing Rian into his light, a growl of warning seeming to resonate in this place.

  The faces and forms paused before resuming their circling, but at a greater distance, with more respect, leaving Rian able to distinguish more features, his own confidence returning from the safety of Hamon’s embrace.

  There were men and women, vague images of bodies, clothing of bygone days, a sense of ageless power and knowledge.

  They twined and surged, became more visible for moments, then faded back into colors, only to appear once more in a different spot.

  It took time for Rian’s mind to sort through the images, but he became aware that often the energies seemed to take two of the forms and meld them into one, and when they emerged once more, it was always the same two together, no matter where they appeared.

  Something Hamon had told him teased at the edges of his thoughts.

  Guardian and soulseeker.

  His heart leaped with some indescribable emotion.

  They were together. Even after death, beyond time itself.

  It spoke to something in his heart, something he could not name or yet understand. His hold on Hamon tightened.

  “I bring a candidate for soulseeker.” Hamon’s voice held the intonation of ceremonial words, his energy flaring, then fading back down to tolerable heights. “We ask for your judgment on this matter, with mercy and compassion if it should not be true. There is no malice or fraudulent intent in this candidate. Only a need for knowledge.”

  Rian watched in trepidation, feeling bursts of power flow over him, through him.

  “He is not one of our people.” A male visage pressed close for a moment, a chill running through Rian at his proximity. “He is not of the Zala.” The form withdrew, twining around others, and a sense of confusion reigned for long moments.

  It was evident they were conferring in some fashion, but their concern was not a good starting point in this matter.

  A woman glided closer, long hair ending in wisps of light trailing behind her. She looked ageless, neither young nor old, her light stronger than the others.

  That same energy flickered forth, seemingly independent of her form, wrapping around both Hamon and Rian.

  Rian flinched back, expecting pain, punishment, madness—but instead there was soothing warmth, its touch like a mother’s caress, at least what Rian imagined such a thing could be. Loving, caring. Wise.

  Hamon remained stoically still, so Rian took the chance and relaxed into it, opening himself in blind trust.

  Then, in a flash, something rose, dark and angry, pushing Hamon violently away, enclosing Rian swiftly, and casting back the warm energy of the woman before them.

  His twin.

  Valen’s presence was like a dark storm, and Rian swayed in its fury, senses lost, feeling like he may well find himself subsumed in its strength, as though here, in the spirit plane, he could become one with his twin, forever lost, his body abandoned and dying. Him becoming a wraith, even as his brother was.

  The horror of it, the wrongness, shook him free of his momentary stupor and he found strength he had not imagined, pushing back against the dark barriers with his own light, his own power.

  Here, it was visible, blue and gold, rising in ever-thickening waves to force back the blackness.

  He could feel Valen’s fury, his desperation, guilt, madness—and here, in this place of truth—his love.

  It almost made him falter before he firmed his will and held steadfast against the increasing pressure.

  But the love had changed something, and he felt his own hatred and resentment slide aside so that there was nothing between them but truth. For the first time since that long ago abandonment.

  The blocks that had kept him firmly away from his twin seemed thinner here, his thoughts more clear. Slowly, subtly, he began to see the edges of Valen’s features, wispy and thin at first, then more solid, until he stared back into his own face.

  The chaotic whirl that surrounded his twin seemed to die down somewhat, as they met each other in a way long denied.

  The darkness lessened, Valen reached for him with almost-solid hands, his expression crumpling into frustration and sorrow as they passed through Rian, unable to connect.

  His pain was unendurable. Rian firmed his energies, reached out in turn, and faintly, so faintly, he thought he could feel a touch, warmth, a swirl of emotions not his own.

  There was anger there, but not anger at Rian. Fury at their mother for taking him from Rian, sorrow at their separation, guilt that he had not been able to return, to save Rian from their father. A desperate yearning for life along with a stubborn determination to stay a wraith, to forever protect Rian in whatever form possible.

  Pain—that Rian hated him.

  Rian felt a flare of shame so potent that he felt ill with it. He had only ever considered his side of the story, had ignored how it would have felt to have been ripped away from his twin, to have to live in hiding for years. Separate, when he was half of a whole.

  Rian’s own sorrow rose, now that the cloak of anger was falling away. A sense of loss that he had tried to suppress for so long, tried to ignore, suddenly filled him. His own pain and confusion over Arran’s actions had helped to pu
sh it aside, cover it over as less important.

  Now, it almost choked him with its potency.

  Valen tried to speak, his mouth moved, but there was no sound, only an increase in the strength of the emotions that washed over Rian.

  Images of the past swirled by, becoming ever more clear. Of their childhood, inseparable, a faint picture of their mother that made Rian involuntarily reach out. He had forgotten what she looked like, and the reminder made a choking sob rise. So beautiful, her eyes soft and kind.

  Arran, young and loving, teasing, protecting, softness in his eyes as he viewed them.

  The past, come to life, scouring away the intervening years, and showing him what he had lost, so long ago.

  Grief, sharp and renewed, rose to engulf him.

  He had to fight past it, remember the here and now, and why he had come to this place of shadows and those who were neither alive, nor truly dead.

  Remember that the past was just that, the past. Long gone.

  Valen might be his twin, but they were forever on opposite sides of life.

  As though that thought had transferred across their link, Valen pressed closer, tendrils of energy wrapping around Rian’s own insubstantial form, as though in a desperate bid to bring him closer, although whether that was to bring Valen back to life, or bring Rian into death, was hard to determine.

  Rian did not withdraw, but neither did he accept that desperate energy into his own.

  His love for his twin, so long repressed and beaten down under anger and pain, rose to the fore, and he wrapped Valen in his own energy, brighter, stronger with life.

  “Peace, brother,” he whispered. “There is no harm here. Those who are here have come to aid me. I feel the spirit plane, Valen. I can help those here, guide them through to peace. Please, let me do this. And then, one day, I can help you be free…”

  There was a whirl of blackness, a cry of denial, and Valen was gone, leaving Rian shaken and alone.

  Then warm, familiar energy drew him close, and he was pressed up against Hamon, who murmured comfort, his embrace clean and clear of the past and all the tattered emotions that trailed with it.

  “I am fine,” he assured the Hawk, though he felt anything but. Everything had just changed, all his anger, his denial of what he had lost, had fallen away, and he was raw with it, the hole where his twin should be aching.

  With monumental effort, he drew himself back into the moment. There was little time and much to achieve.

  Drawing himself up, straight and proud, he faced the spirit woman once more, meeting her eyes with newfound confidence.

  “I believe that I could become a soulseeker as you are and were. Judge me, and if I am truly worthy, then teach me how to become what is needed.”

  The woman smiled, her energy sliding into golden splendor.

  Rian came back to himself with a gasp and an aborted attempt to sit up immediately.

  Mistake.

  Nausea overtook him and he was thankful for strong arms that held him steady as he retched helplessly into a bowl someone held for him.

  The voices around him held no anxiety, only a familiar humor as they spoke among themselves, so after his bout of illness, he laid back without argument or worry, just letting himself drift.

  It took some time for his scattered thoughts to coalesce into anything understandable. When they did, his half-closed eyes widened, his breath stuttering for a moment.

  He turned his head slowly, carefully, coming face to face with a weary Hamon, lying close beside him, a warmth along his right side. The man was almost gray-faced, his eyes only half open.

  Rian forced energy into his leaden body and managed, with great effort, to roll to his side, an arm over Hamon’s waist, edging closer until they were almost nose-to-nose.

  “Was that real? Am I remembering truth and not just fantasy?”

  Hamon smiled, expression worn but proud. “It was real. All real.”

  Rian found a smile curving his lips. “You did it. You found the soulseeker your people had searched for. So many tried, but it was you.”

  Hamon moved his hand slowly, his cold fingers stroking Rian’s cheek.

  “We did it, Rian. You and I. You moved beyond your people’s beliefs. That is no small feat in itself.” There was pride in the tone, and Rian found himself flushing in pleasure.

  “Now I just have to put in the work to see this through. I am not what you need just yet.” He felt obligated to point that fact out.

  Hamon kissed his nose. “You will be. Let me sleep. In the morning, we will work together.”

  Rian nodded, watching in silent fascination as the man before him closed his eyes, slipping into immediate sleep, his stern features smoothing into something much younger. He trailed his fingers across that face, feeling a sense of almost giddy amazement at his temerity.

  Whatever he had gained from the soulseekers, there was something more, something entirely unexpected. Traveling through the spirit plane with Hamon had banished the last of his fear of the Hawk leader. In its place… He laid his palm upon that face, letting exhaustion take him, never taking his eyes from the man before him, until they finally slid shut.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Rian slammed his fist into the dirt, snarling with frustration.

  His inner voice shredded him. Fool. Shameful idiot. You are no more than Arran named you.

  “Stop.”

  He was shocked into stillness, the voice silenced.

  He looked up into calm brown eyes.

  “Do you think this should be simple? Easy? It takes years of training to move into the spirit plane. Years I sat by my grandfather’s side, my father’s side, and it was progress by increments. You are forcing yourself to learn swiftly, because you fear that your brother will end this, forbid you from learning. That may be true, but this must be done correctly, otherwise you will endanger yourself, and the spirits themselves.”

  Rian flushed at the gentle chastisement, drawing a deep and calming breath as he relaxed back into the cross-legged pose Hamon held so easily.

  It was difficult to accept being seen-through so easily. Most of his life had been spent hiding, blocking all emotion. That this man could see him so clearly and effortlessly was frightening, yet at the same time, it made Rian feel less achingly alone.

  Hamon was not impatient, not scathing, not in the least judgmental in his teaching.

  So far different from the man Rian had first met. Almost too far different. Some part of Rian, the abused, cynical part, was waiting for the return to that first personality. A sudden reversal of this gentler, kinder side. Hamon was a Hawk, a Zala, first and foremost. They were not known for generosity or kindness, even to their own. Whether that was truth or mere storytelling and gossip, he did not know.

  His brother had been kind once. Loving once.

  That had changed into something dark and tainted with pain and madness.

  He looked deep into Hamon’s eyes and wondered.

  Hamon’s eyebrow slid up, and he met his stare with enviable equanimity. “I am not your brother.” The words fell between them like stones.

  Rian flinched, feeling exposed and vulnerable. The fact that the other man knew his background, knew his shame, and yet continued as though it held no great power for the future…

  It made no sense.

  Surely it must be because they needed a soulseeker desperately. Nothing other than that.

  “You think too much. Come back to this moment. This moment is free of the past, free of the future. Center yourself.”

  The calm words broke the through the mire of Rian’s thoughts and he sucked in a long breath, fighting to obey.

  This moment. He liked that. It gave a freedom to his actions, his thoughts. Gritting his teeth, he stifled that inner, critical voice, and returned to his present struggles.

  He needed to find calm, focus to enter the spirit plane, to provide the bridge between life and death. Needed to be fully on that plane in order to link the lost sp
irits to the beyond, the gods’ realm.

  He could feel the ghosts so clearly here, but without that link, he could not complete their journey, could not aid them.

  Hamon was right. He was forcing himself ruthlessly, fear of Arran’s arrival rendering him incapable of any achievement whatsoever. To do this, he must clear his mind and, as Hamon had said, live in this moment.

  “Call yourself into present time.”

  He held to that calm voice as a lifeline. Closing his eyes, concentrating on the feel of the ground beneath him, the cool grass beneath his fingertips, the sigh of wind across his face…

  Present time.

  A wisp of energy trailed over him, the odd chill he had come to associate with ghosts, and then, between one moment and the next, he was elsewhere.

  He opened his eyes slowly, almost afraid to discover he was wrong, or that he would snap back to reality.

  It looked entirely the same, as when he and Hamon had traversed it the day before. Otherworldly, a gray-blue tint to the shifting energy, it was solid, and yet not. Everything moved ever so slightly, with subtly shifting edges of shadows. There were no landmarks. What could be taken for trees seemed more gray, shifting energy than anything else.

  He held his hand before his face, spreading his fingers, watching wide-eyed as the edges of where his flesh should be trailed off into wisps.

  Here, he was as ghost like as the ghosts themselves. With effort, he looked away, remembering his purpose.

  A gatekeeper. The spirits of the soulseekers had said there would be a gatekeeper. He only had to find the keeper and form the link to the gods’ realm.

  He took a deliberate step, then another, realizing he seemed to float more than move as a man should. Strange.

  It took effort to remain focused. His mind wanted to drift away onto other subjects. It was becoming very clear how there was no time here, no sense of space or direction. It would be so easy to get completely lost and not find your way back. Hamon had coached him on this quite thoroughly, and he knew that the other man was currently linked with him. Could bring him back if necessary, but still, it was frightening, the strangeness and peace of this place, which overlaid the deadly reality of the dangers.