Shine: The Knowing Ones (34 page)

Anvil trudged the snowy hill toward the stables in back of the castle, pushing forward, focused yet still filtering shock. His jade eyes glinted in the swirling white, wind whipping at his ebony hair beneath an ample, dark hood.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Crisp air filtered the plea—the flaxen haired spirit manifesting beside him. “I was not allowed. I’ve taken your place as his guide. You are still in the flesh.”

Anvil gazed at the ground. He knew he only had a small piece of the whole, but “not allowed” seemed to be the Divinity’s answer to everything. Had he not been tested enough? Had he not suffered enough?

“That is not how this works,” Llamar said, catching his thought. “This is not a test to be passed. Your suffering serves a purpose.”

“I know,” Anvil said, cutting him off.

Llamar was quiet for a moment. “You have suffered more than any of us. It is not in vain, I can promise you. Your suffering is only temporary, Anvil, and it doesn’t compare to the joy you will one day feel.”

Anvil looked out across the snowy ground trying to contain his bitterness. “One day.”

Llamar put a hand on his shoulder and vanished into the frozen air.

Pulling his long coat around him, he forged ahead toward the castle stables. Wrenching the large doors open, pushing them aside, he entered the stable area. He stood, unmoving, still spinning with the inconceivable events at hand. He forced himself to move—no time for shock. Crossing the stable to his horse, he opened the stall door and walked him out. He saddled him up, and moved to mount him when a potent, unmistakable energy moved like wind through the rafters, attacking his senses, filling him with emptiness.

Clinging to the reins of his horse, Anvil spun around, senses peaked, intuition flared, searching out the source of the assault. Pluming jade irises scanned the stable, pain and anger rising.
“Where are you?”
he seethed, eyes glinting in the shadows.

Time is nearly up...

Anvil trembled, fury building.

The energy circled, lifted, and disappeared leaving only the cryptic phrase and the wind.

“I will find you, brother,” Anvil hissed. “I will hunt you until the day I die...” His voice echoed, emphasizing the emptiness. Anvil received regular, fleeting messages, taunting him; a reminder Ashbel would never let him forget, he would never let him heal, and he would never find him.

Trinton said Ashbel had jumped time. An ability of that magnitude would make it more difficult. But Anvil would never stop. He would never rest until he found him. Nothing else mattered. Without Anavi there was no reason to live.

Jaw tight, he scanned the stable once more, bitter pain in his eyes. Placing his foot in the stirrup, he threw his leg over the giant black steed and tightened the reins. The horse grunted as Anvil turned him to the stable door and hiked him off toward the Ivanova temple.

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

T
rin checked the drapes, drawing them closed, then made his way over to Sam. He could only speculate as to what she had been through. Reading her was difficult like this. All he knew for sure was that she was impossibly cold.

He lay down, pushing an arm beneath her, pulling her to him in a sheltered embrace. Her frozen body sent a pang of alarm through his heart. The thick padded blankets weren’t enough. Hypothermia had very likely set in.

Trin pushed himself up, unzipped his team jacket, pulled it off and tossed it. Reaching over his shoulder he grabbed the back of his T-shirt, pulled it over his head, and tossed it as well. Pushing a muscled arm underneath her tiny frame he hoisted her limp body toward him. He lay back down and wrapped her in his arms, pressing her body against his broad bare chest, wincing at the cold—a soft curse escaping his lips, then he pulled her closer.

Critical heat flowed, building between them, radiating into Sam, thawing her chilled skin. The ever present carnal pull washed over him, threatening his focus, challenging him as he fought to bring her back.

Sam’s breathing slowed, deepening, as heat from Trin’s body soaked into her, quieting her trembling, her tightened muscles relaxing. After a few more drawn breaths she sighed.

Her fingers swept against his lower back, sending a chill up his spine. He waited, breathing. Without warning, her hands trailed up his back, reaching his neck, pulling him down into hers. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her hips into his.

“Sam,” he whispered, responding to her touch, pulling her closer. “Samantha, can you hear me?”

Sam sighed, her fingers leaving his neck and shoulders, moving to the front of his body, trailing down toward his sculpted torso.

“Samantha, wake up.”
He caught her mid-stream, grasping her hand, waiting, his resistance unraveling as the seconds passed.

Her eyes opened.

He exhaled, relieved. “Hey,” he whispered.

Sam searched his hypnotic eyes, and then crushed her lips to his, giving in to the flooding gratitude at finally being safe in his arms.

As the moment intensified, Trin struggled to reign himself in. Going against everything right and holy with the world he forced himself to break free from her kiss. She moved to his neck.

“Sam? Samantha...” Russian cursing.

She relented, her face lingering at his neck. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered.

Trin’s heart pounded in his chest. “I am here,” he said, “but it isn’t over.”

After a moment of taking in his voice, Sam pulled her face from his neck, resting her head against the pillow. “Where are we?” she asked.

“We’re in the guest cottage in the back of the castle, in Russia, in the twentieth century.”

Sam seemed surprisingly calm at the news. She lay very still, staring off behind him.

“There’s more,” he said. “The kindjal you saw, the one used to kill Anavi,” he said. “The blade is alexandrite.”

Sam stared.

“The Veduny conduit is now aligned with Chernobog,” he said.

Sam said nothing.

“Sam?”

She glanced back. “I heard you.” She didn’t need to say a word. He could feel how frightened she was. “Samantha, he hasn’t won yet,” he said. “He never saw
this
coming I can assure you of that.”

Sam shook her head. “Every time we think we’re ahead of him he overcomes it,” she said. “And if Chernobog is guiding him...” She paused in desperation. “We can’t win.”

Trin searched her eyes for a moment. “You need to remember that if all this exists then the opposite exists too. You can’t have darkness without light. It is a universal law,” he said. “If Chernobog is guiding
Ashbel, who do you think is guiding us?” he asked. “We are not alone, Sam. I’m here, aren’t I?”

Sam glanced away. He was right. She did believe in the evil that sought her, so the opposite had to exist. Sam gazed at him with anxious eyes. She threw her arms around his neck burying her face. “Thank you for finding me,” she whispered.

He gave a quiet chuckle. “What else was I going to do?”

Anvil steered his horse through the village on his way to the temple. A vulnerable temperament still prevailed as his tribal family attempted to carry out daily tasks, to resume normal life—the crime still fresh, the wound raw. His people nodded in respect, bowing as he passed. Acknowledging them with gratitude and humility, he continued his course. As he neared the borders of the main road he quickened his pace as much as he dared in the semi-crowded street, aiming for the path into the forest.

Directing his horse, he nearly lost control as a young woman darted in front of him. The horse reared. Anvil shouted a command, grasping at the reins as the woman jostled a heavy bundle, spilling it out onto the path. “Forgive me.” He settled his horse, springing from the saddle, squatting down to help her retrieve her belongings. The young woman gathered her things in a rush, stuffing them without care into the sack. A heavy shawl covered her head, a sense of anxiety emanating from beneath it. Anvil lowered his head. “Please,” he said. “Let me help you.”

“It’s all right,” she replied, her voice rough from crying.

Anvil placed a hand of comfort to her shoulder. His brother’s energy rocked through him like electricity. His fingers flew from her shoulder, stunned. She peered out from underneath the shawl, meeting his gaze. Instant pain ignited in her eyes, trembling as the tears returned. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She grabbed the full bag, scrambled to her feet and rushed away, leaving him stunned in the center of the road. It was a good minute before he stood, his horse waiting for his master’s next command. An older man with graying hair and a thick build hurried from his shop to Anvil’s side. “Are you all right, sir?”

Startled, Anvil turned to the man a moment and then back to the mysterious woman. “Did you see the woman who was here just now?” he asked.

The man looked past him. “I saw her with you but I didn’t see her face.”

Anvil continued to search the path she had taken. There was hardly a trace of her energy to follow. The older man stared, confused. “Who was she? Do you want me to summon some men to find her?”

He did. He wanted her found immediately, but for some reason he felt compelled to let her go. “No,” he said. “It’s all right, Yakov. Thank you.”

Yakov nodded and returned to his shop. Anvil couldn’t get on his horse fast enough. He had to get to the council. Something significant was occurring and he realized every moment that passed with Trin and his charge here was a possible catastrophe waiting to happen. Everything was changing, he could feel it. He took off on his horse this time not caring how fast he was going through the town. He had cleared the most populated area and couldn’t afford any more distractions. He charged his horse through the vast, snow covered meadow and up the increasing slope that led to the temple.

His eyes gleamed in the darkness, constructing a message. As he made the steady climb up the rocky terrain, the forest closed in around him, towering pines and thick vegetation crowding the steep but steady path. Finally the trees gave way to a clearing surrounded by pines up against the mountainside. An immense towering construct filled the center, a circular stone building lined with pillars, beautifully carved with ornate details rising as high as the stone roof. Stone steps rose to a substantial entryway lined with enormous wooden doors.

As Anvil slowed his horse, bringing him to a stop a tall man emerged from the pillars, long robes billowing with his brisk steps. He placed an elderly hand against one of the colossal pillars, long white hair framing a stern face lifting from his shoulders in the wind. Ancient eyes, filled with wisdom gleamed with concern under an ample brow. With a brisk dismount, Anvil secured his horse and took to the steep stairs leading to where Dobrushin, the Head Elder now stood.

As Anvil arrived at the top Dobrushin looked him dead in the eyes. “How is it possible?”

Anvil shot past him, taking him by the arm as he went, hurrying for the temple door. “We must go inside.”

They crossed the threshold at a hurried pace through the massive corridor and into the center room where the council had already convened. Six other individuals, both men and women, stood in alarm, waiting.

Anvil made his way to the center table and stood before them. Dobrushin followed him, lingering behind, stunned by the energy he was reading off his current Keeper. Anvil looked to the council. “We have several serious problems.”

Dobrushin moved past him. “The next Keeper...your successor...
he is here?”

Anvil looked at Dobrushin. “The Oracle is here as well.” His anxious expression turned grave. “Ashbel brought her here. He has returned in their time.”

Dobrushin’s eyes flared. “How has he done it?”

“Trinton, my successor, has informed me Chernobog is trying to cross and he has enlisted Ashbel’s help. He entered their time and brought Trinton’s charge here. They were able to send Trinton to collect her but Ashbel has incapacitated her somehow. Samantha, his charge, has significant power. She is their only way back. The council in his time had instructed him to avoid contact with us. But that has already occurred.”

Dobrushin glanced at the floor, his mind spinning. He walked over to his place at the large stone table and looked back at Anvil.

“This hasn’t occurred by chance,” he said. “I agree.” Dobrushin took his seat. “An event of this magnitude was certainly foreseen by the Divinity. Our successors’ fears of altering the future are now irrelevant and cannot dictate the way we choose to handle this. If Chernobog is involved then we must deal with it
now
.”

At that moment a blinding light lit up the large vaulted room. Llamar materialized in motion, approaching Anvil and the council. “Ashbel is in the mines,” he said. “I just saw him.”

All seven council members rose, stunned.

Anvil’s eyes ignited in fury. “I must go,” he said, moving past Llamar. “I am the only one who can stop him.”

“Not with Chernobog helping him,” Llamar countered.

Anvil turned. “I am the Keeper. I am the only one who stands a chance.”

“Not anymore.”

Anvil’s jade eyes glinted in Llamar’s direction. He was right. There were
two
Keepers in Ivanova.