Asanni
ASANNI
THE LANGAER CHRONICLES
Book One
Copyright © 2014 J. F. Kaufmann
All rights reserved. No part of this
publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or
transmitted, in any form or in any means—by electronic, mechanical
photocopying, recording or otherwise—without prior written
permission.
Asanni
is a work of fiction. All
names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the
author’s imagination or are used factiously.
Jacket design Laura Stobbe
Formatting by Anessa Books
All trademarks and brands mentioned in this
book belong to their respective owners.
The 1961 Nobel Laureate for Literature Ivo
Andric’s quotation at the beginning of Chapter 11 is used with the
kind permission of Ivo Andric’s Foundation in Belgrade.
This e-book is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to
other people. If you would like to share this book with another
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you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not
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this author.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in
Publication
Kaufmann, J. F.,
Asanni / J. F. Kaufmann.
ISBN 978-0993782503
ISBN-10: 0993782507
www.jfkaufmann.com
To my father Milan: my guardian angel, and
the greatest fisherman in Heaven
.
Creating a book is a quest of such immense
magnitude that it cannot be the accomplishment of a single person.
Asanni
would have never been published without the enormous
help and support of my talented friends.
My most sincere gratitude goes to Sonya
Guha-Thakurta, who was with me in every step and on every page of
this adventure, and to Laura Stobbe, the designer of
Asanni’s
eye-catching cover page.
I owe a huge thanks to Pat Lancaster and
Carol Fletcher for their keen attention to detail; to Sarah
Meilleur for finding time to read my story in spite of her
impossibly busy life; to my female soul-mate, Ada Radošević, for
falling in love with my characters and for sending me an abundance
of positive vibes from across the Atlantic; to Andrea Grotemeyer
for turning Google’s and my translating attempts into proper
German; to my sister Marina Stipanac for sorting out my trademark
and copyright confusion, and to Kayla McAlister and Patti Nouri for
lifting my spirit on countless occasions.
I also need to thank my two accidental
contributors: T. D. and M. R., whose physical appearance inspired
me to envision James Mohegan and Darius Arenvald. Neither man knows
me personally, nor do I know them, thus the omission of their full
names. They simply happened to be in the right place at the right
time. I would like to think that, if they knew, they wouldn’t mind
ending up in my book the way they did.
I am blessed with two sons, Maximilian and
Constantine. They are not only proud to have a mom who writes
books—that’s the easy part—but they also let me monopolize the only
computer we have, which sometimes isn’t that easy at all. Thanks,
guys! And thank you, Bojan, for believing in me and for supporting
my passion. You selflessly took over Max and Costa’s practices and
music lessons, dental checkups and medical appointments, attended
parent-teacher interviews in my stead—the list is long—so that I
could spend more time in Red Cliffs with Astrid and Jack.
J. F. Kaufmann
As I mentioned in the Acknowledgments,
creating a book is a joint effort. Once written, it has to be
edited and proofread; it has to have a cover, it has to be
formatted and uploaded. All these jobs are usually done by someone
else, not the author herself.
The writing itself, however, is another
story. It is a solitary job: there is a writer, her imagination and
blank pages on the computer screen, waiting to be populated with
people and places, love and heartaches, joys and sorrows, laughter
and tears, victories and losses.
In the author's imagined world her characters
easily come alive, yet continue to live in secrecy until they are
ready to meet their readers.
Now that my book is published, my exclusive
ownership of this story is over. I’m inviting you to become a part
of my world, hoping that you will like it as much as I do.
Now it is up to you to continue this
adventure.
J. F. Kaufmann
BEFORE FEAR swept over me like a tide, some
unexpected thoughts crossed my mind as I watched my stepfather’s
four Tel-Urugh mercenaries closing in on Jack and me.
About how I’d always known that my quiet,
ordinary life in Rosenthal, a small town in the back of beyond, was
not more than a temporary illusion. After all, having a wizard
mother and a werewolf father wasn’t an orthodox heritage. Now I had
no choice but to say the final farewell to my alias, Dr. Rosalie
Duplant, local surgeon, and once again become Astrid
Vandermeer-Mohegan, half-asanni, half-bleithast, hunted by my
dangerous, delusional stepfather who wanted me for his own sinister
goals: to conquer and destroy...
About how it was my rotten luck that I ended
up with an evil stepfather, and not, like in all happy-ending
stories, with an evil stepmother...
About that evening two weeks ago when I
learned that I was a rare, precious, powerful Ellida, a living
embodiment of the ancient alliance between wizards and werewolves.
“An Ellida is a mighty force of good, the most treasured member of
the werewolf clan and its highest authority,” Jack had said to me.
“She brings prosperity, happiness and peace to her people and never
abuses her powers...”
About how much I loved Jack...
AND NOW the hiding was over, I thought as
fear finally kicked in. Helpless, desperate, I was trapped in my
wolf’s body, which didn’t know how to fight and was too weak to
run.
Yet, oddly enough, underneath despair, there
was another feeling. Relief. No more hiding. No more running.
“
May Jack be safe... May Jack be
safe
...” I prayed silently because it seemed the only thing I
could do at that moment.
“
No time for prayers, wizard!
” A
different voice inside my head snapped, startling me. “
We have
to fight!!! Think of something!”
As if on command, I closed my eyes and
breathed in and out several times.
My mind cleared. I knew what to do.
Sensing
something
, Jack swiftly turned
to me, shock written all over his face as he took in my blue,
wizard eyes instead of the amber of my wolf’s.
“
The asanni has joined the team, it
seems
,” I said in a calm voice.
“
No, Astrid! Do not try anything! Run
toward the south! You must run!!!”
Jack yelled, his voice thick
with dread. Not for himself. For me. Jack was a great warrior, but
I was his great weakness.
“
Forget it, Jack. I’m not leaving you!
Where is their weak point? Where should I aim?!”
“
I’ll take the leader and that chubby one
on the left. They are the strongest. This is your chance! Run!
That’s an order, Astrid! Run now!!!”
“
NO!!! Where are they weak?! Tell
me!!!”
“
Neck! Break the neck! Don’t let them bite
you! Watch out for weapons!!!”
I murmured a spell in my old wizard tongue
and found Jack’s eyes. “
Jump and roll over me!
”
“
WHAT?!”
“
DO IT!!!”
Jack knocked me down. We rolled several
times, moving away from our enemy.
When we separated, two identical werewolves
stood in front of them.
“What!? What’s that!? I told you to grab him
first!” the tall Tel-Urugh screeched. “She’s a witch! Look what she
did! They both look like him! Which one is she!? Take them both!
TAKE THEM BOTH!!!!”
“
The hell you will... Matri Agni nauh
mehakhal khetar... Matri Agni nauh mehakhal khetar...
”
Mother Fire, be my shield...
My wolf was right. It felt much better
muttering spells than prayers. Those I’d do later. Now I needed our
old gods and spirits. They always came in time of great peril, it
was said, to protect their children...
“Matri Agni nauh mehakhal
khetar
...”
“
Astrid, no! NO!!!
” Jack was shouting
at the top of his lungs.
“
IT’S SHOWTIIIIME!!!!”
Bursting into flames, I charged toward the
enemy with a speed and strength I hadn’t dreamt I possessed.
My first prey dropped on the ground, even
before I reached him. I jumped over him and followed the other one,
who pulled out a knife and bolted toward the woods, faster than a
shadow.
Still not fast enough, though. A few long
strides and I was in front of him. Our eyes met. His were filled
with fear. Mine, I supposed, with anger.
“
Drop the knife. I don’t want to kill
you
,” I said, but then remembered we couldn’t communicate
telepathically. He was a Tel-Urugh, a warm-blooded vampire.
The knife flew low from his hand, catching a
sunbeam on its curved edge, before its tip pierced my leg.
The world compressed into a single particle
and I drowned in darkness.
Rosenthal, three weeks earlier
THE PHONE on the night stand made a soft hum.
Tristan Blake reached for it, glancing at the time: 2:35 a. m.
“Blake.”
“A month ago Seth sent six of his men to find
her,” a woman’s voice whispered.
Tristan jerked upright. “A month ago? Why
didn’t you tell us?”
The woman on the opposite side of the bed sat
up and shot Tristan a worried look.
“We didn’t know until now,” the voice said.
“They aren’t very dedicated to the job, but they might still dig up
something. Seth’s more and more out of control. Now he wants to
bring Darius, his son, home, even before he gets her—”
“He’s not going to get her. Ever.”
“Make her go to Red Cliffs. She’ll have the
protection of her clan there, and we’ll take care of our problem
here,” the woman said. “We’ll contact you as soon as we know
anything new.”
Tristan rubbed his hand over a day’s growth
of dark stubble. “Thank you. Be careful.”
“No worries. Keep an eye on her.”
“We will.”
THE LINE disconnected. For a moment Tristan
stared at the phone and then made a call.
“Are you phoning Jack?” Livia said from
beside him.
“Yep. We need him here.”
A man’s voice answered immediately. “Is she
okay, Tristan?”
“She’s fine. Our insider called. Seth sent
his dogs after her a month ago.”
“Did they get close?”
“Hell, no. Her silly cover is still working.
We never let her out of our sight. She isn’t thrilled, but she
cooperates. Your people here also watch over her. She doesn’t know
about them, otherwise she’d be pissed off.” Tristan ran his fingers
through his short hair and let out a deep breath. “Jack, I think
you should take her to Red Cliffs. Where are you, by the way?”
“I can see the Southern Cross from here,
that’s all I can tell you. I’ll need a week to get there.”
“That’s fine, Jack. She’s not in imminent
danger.”
“Is she going to listen this time? Is she
going to go with me?”
“Well, that depends on you, Jack,” Livia said
in her slow, sensual drawl.
“Hey, beauty. I’ve been wondering where you
were,” Jack said.
“Okay, that’s it,” Tristan said. “I am not
teleconferencing again! Here.” He passed the phone to Livia. “If
you want to talk to Jack, at least keep the phone pressed against
your ear, not mine.”
“I see your husband’s still obsessed with
mimicking human behavior,” Jack said.
“And what’s wrong with that? At least humans
respect the privacy of a simple phone conversation.”
“Only because they don’t have our sharp
hearing,” Livia said.
“Liv, you think she’ll go this time or will I
have to kidnap her? She seems to be a stubborn little mule,” Jack
said.
“Just convince her, you charming devil. She’s
been reluctant about going to Red Cliffs, but then she has reason
to be. She’s a sensible person, Jack. She’ll listen to you. You’ll
like her a lot.”