Shine: The Knowing Ones (39 page)

Ashbel’s sinister eyes journeyed with Anvil as he entered the mine with the new Keeper—floating in astral projection trying to locate the
Oracle who had been taken from him. Inconceivable but true—the new Veduny Keeper had come after his charge and had succeeded in collecting her. They sought the kindjal. A hint of sarcasm brought a faint smile to his embittered gaze. They would never find it. But he was running out of time. He had only a few hours remaining to find her again or he could do nothing. He would fail.

He watched the Keepers enter the lift and descend into the depths. Calculating their every move he knew they would leave the mines empty-handed and eventually lead him back to her.

A faint vibration dislodged his focus. Something had changed. All of his attention shifted from the mine entrance to a space deep within it. Disbelief crept through his core and he realized he may not need them after all.

CHAPTER FIFTY THREE

S
am continued forward through the darkened tunnel using the muted light as a guide—following its beckoning glow through cavernous twists, the light growing brighter with every turn. She rounded a final corner, leaving behind the last of the darkened tunnel and froze in her tracks. She dared not move, she dared not breathe.

Not fifteen feet from where she stood, the sealed symbol of Chernobog gleamed in ghostly blue iridescence—an enormous carving, at least twelve feet in diameter basking in a glorious prison of Veduny light; the seal of the first Oracle just as it had been in her vision weeks ago. It seemed like centuries had passed since that day. The image evoking a dreamlike quality, she questioned her sanity. This cavern had been sealed for centuries. No one could get here. Not even the Veduny.

The room itself dwarfed in comparison to the imposing seal, and after a moment of paralyzing awe she took a step forward. Just as it was in her vision she felt nothing malevolent. The heavenly seal protected her from the damaging properties that lay beneath it and she gazed upon it in wonder, edging toward it.

She realized soon enough it was the heat that drew her, a powerful churning energy, her frozen body craving the warmth it naturally generated. A voice sounded in her mind, breaking the silence.

The left wall...

Sam turned, making her way over across the space. She scanned the massive stone facade looking for anything out of place; anything different that might mean something. She noticed a small opening.

Hugging her thawing body she carefully moved toward it, running her fingers across its edges. She thought of Trin, wondering if he was alright, hoping what she would find here would help him, and how he would positively kill her if he knew what she was doing right now.

She had to help him. She was supposed to. It was who she was. He wasn’t supposed to be out there fighting this without her. A gaping empty space in her chest longed for him, needing him, worrying sick she would never see him again. She looked inside the cylindrical space and squinted in confusion. Reaching inside, she removed a scroll; very old—quite possibly predating the time she was currently in. She stared, wondering what it could be.

She gazed into the opening one more time just as a wave of icy intuition prickled at the base of her neck—an undeniable sensation penetrating her senses from behind her. With a knot of terror in the pit of her stomach she turned—confirming her fear. Eerie jade irises gleamed back at her in the shadows.

Rising panic clawed at her chest as she strained for composure. He would not see her weak. He stared, amusement in his eyes glinting with malice. Oh how he looked like Anvil and how very wrong the energy felt.

He walked toward Sam. She stiffened, doing her very best to cloak. The power she had that she didn’t know how to access—how she needed it now. She focused on Trin, trying to teleport to him—nothing.

A dark grin swept Ashbel’s features as he continued forward, arriving at her feet just inches from where she stood. He glanced down at the scroll, then lifted his eyes to hers, reading, decoding. Cloaking against him was no good, though she tried. His abilities were far more advanced.

She didn’t know what he was going to do with her but she knew what she held in her hand could not pass to his. Sam knew what she had to do and it needed to happen before he read her intent to do so. Ashbel grabbed for the scroll but his hand simply met with Sam’s as the scroll disappeared.

Sam exhaled in relief interrupted by a sharp gasp of pain, his energy toxic as ever. The venom spilled into her skin, scathing her senses as her jaw clenched, eyes stoic, mustering as strong a shield as she could.

His grip on her hand tightened, eyes flashing with fury. A barrage of images erupted in her mind. Unexpected information mingled with
the poison, pouring into her like a gushing torrent, so much, so fast—too rapid to decipher. A critical gem slipped through—the location of the kindjal, in this room, in the wall, in the same cavity that held the scroll.

He yanked his fingers from her as if in pain. He stared, stepping back. Ashbel reined in his focus. His irises plumed with light and Sam found herself pinned against the wall by invisible force.

Her irises blazed white-blue as the stone cavern began to rumble and shake. He glanced about, asserting the structure of the opening and looked back at her daring her to continue. She realized she would kill them both—almost worth it to watch him die. Scanning his target, his large hands flew forward, grabbing both her wrists in an iron grasp. His eyes gleamed with the superior strength of a well-seasoned Keeper—a rushing sound—and they both disappeared.

The lift lowered Trin and Anvil deep into the earth. Descending in silence, Trin’s mind flooded with Sam—wondering how she was doing and whether by some miracle she truly was safe in his absence. Half of his heart was missing again, a feeling he had endured way too many times. The lift continued down with an electrical hum.

Anvil flinched at a sudden Russian curse beside him. His head snapped to Trin. “What is it?” He glanced down. A scroll of ancient parchment filled Trin’s previously empty hand. “Where did that come from?” he asked.

Trin looked from the scroll to Anvil. “It just appeared.”

Anvil studied Trin. “Sam,” he said.

Trin looked down at the scroll in confusion. “Is this something from the sanctuary?” he asked. “Do you know what this is?”

Anvil took it from his hands. “No,” he replied. “I’ve never seen this before.” Anvil unrolled the parchment as Trin looked on. It was a map. A series of tunnels neither one of them had seen before.

“What is this?” Trin asked. “Do you know where this is?”

Anvil studied the coordinates of the map. “This doesn’t make any sense,” he replied. “It appears to be inside the mine. But this is not the layout of the mine.”

Trin scrutinized the map. A sense of disquiet colored his features. “You said you didn’t know what this was, that you hadn’t seen it in the sanctuary.”

“No,” Anvil replied. “I have never seen it before.”

“Sam
sent it to me.”

“She is the only one who could have,” Anvil said.

Trin looked upon him with growing urgency, and the confusion in Anvil’s eyes shifted to alarm. Trin staggered as incoming sensory information leveled him. “He’s got her.”

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR

S
am was alone. Wherever Ashbel had sent her he had not followed. Taking in her surroundings she found herself shackled to the posts of a large wooden bed in what appeared to be a castle room. Not the Veduny castle. The environment was all wrong and this castle had fallen into disrepair.

Harsh stone walls encapsulated a decrepit room with only the bed, a baron fireplace, and a dilapidated chair. Frigid air from outside slipped through cracks in decomposing walls, passing over the cold stone floor and finding her skin, chilling her to the bone. She listened for evidence of her captor, and heard in response only the distant sound of water lapping against rock—close to water; maybe closer to Trin. Her eyes closed, focusing as she searched for him, sending a mental message. No response.

Opening her eyes, she turned to the bedposts. Thin rods of gold twisted securely around her wrists, holding her fast. Darkness held the room in silence, emphasizing the ever ticking clock—pulling the imminent solstice closer every moment. She pulled her hands, yanking at the metal restraints, twisting, squeezing her fingers together. No good.

The stinging winds seeped through walls with a new ferocity, the rocky terrain outside taking greater lashings as the intensifying waves crashed against it. Had he blocked her communication skills as well, or had he done something to Trin? A sick feeling of dread etched the lining of her stomach.

Sam laid back into the pillow, considering ways to break free. What would Trin do in a situation like this? She knew so little about the power she had.

Muffled footfalls—someone approached from behind the large wooden door. She froze, her senses straining, reaching out through the wood and stone to discern the level of threat—too distant, unreadable. Nothing. The steps grew closer, louder now—ascending the stairs. Wrought with panic, Sam yanked at the shackles holding her in place to no avail. The handle on the door began to turn.

Trin’s head snapped up in alarm, scanning the mining shaft. He looked to Anvil. “Did you feel that?”

“I felt that.”

A rumbling tremor rippled through the walls and the stony earth beneath them—a vibration laced with intelligence, intelligence they knew. A sharp glance passed between them and they took off down the tunnel. Sam was in the mine. Trin scanned like crazy, trying to pick up her location.

He reached out to her telepathically getting no response. His speed increased, panic reaching an explosive level. Anvil kept right to his side. Would they never catch him? The sensation hit as they flew through the tunnels and open passageways—faint but unmistakable—
Sam.
The two warriors launched forward with ferocious persistence.

Samantha!
He tried again. Still nothing, desperation crested as he feared she may be incapacitated—or worse.

“Trinton, wait!” Anvil’s firm grasp yanked Trin to an abrupt halt.

Trin shook him off. “What are you doing?”

Anvil grabbed him again. “It isn’t Samantha.”

“It
is
,” Trin replied, shaking his grip once again.

“Trinton, stop,”

Trin fired an exasperated look at his mentor.

Anvil scanned the caverns ahead, conflict burdening his features. “Something is not right,” he said. “I sense no one but Ashbel.”

“He is
with
her,” Trin said. “You sense him because he has Sam—I’ll go alone if I have to,” he growled.

“No,” Anvil insisted. He stared down the dark passage, as if in a trance then took off down through the tunnel again. Trin didn’t care
why. He was glad they were moving again. A shudder in the atmosphere—the environment itself peeled back and Ashbel appeared in front of them about twenty feet ahead.

Trin eyes erupted in blue light—burning anger winding through his chest. Ashbel barreled toward them, and every part of Trin wanted the warrior dead. But anguished energy flared at him from the right. Trin’s head snapped to Anvil whose defenses were coming apart at the sight of his brother. The scroll in Trin’s hand caught fire. He flinched, dropping the singed parchment to the ground, watching it smolder to ash at his feet. His attention snapped back to the tunnel as a savage ball of fire shot toward him.

White light flared around Trin’s body, his eyes blazing. Cracks and crevasses filled with liquid as water form deep within the earth traveled toward the command. Moisture accumulated from every surface, leaving the dry, earthen walls around them to crumble and gasp. A solid liquid shield formed, colliding with the oncoming flames.

With a savage roar, his closed fist burst forward through the wall of water, crushing into Ashbel’s sternum—he felt his fist make contact, but when the air cleared there was no one there. Trin scanned the tunnel as remnants of smoke cleared, settling water creating a spray of dampened earth before them. Trin seethed. “Where is he?”