Shine: The Knowing Ones (42 page)

Trin rose to his feet, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Sam. “Dobrushin, can you take us to the location of the cave system?”

“Yes,” the Elder replied.

“I can swim it,” Trin said.

Sam shot up from the sofa. “No, you can’t.”

Trin turned to Anvil, disregarding her comment. “Get a few of your men together. Dobrushin, how long does it take to get to these caves?”

“Trinton!” Sam exploded.

He turned, taking her by the shoulders. “Sam, think about it,” he said. “My element is water. I am the only Keeper here in this time with that element. Why else would this person have shown you where the kindjal was? The only way for us to claim it is by water.”

“Freezing subzero temperature water—
miles of it.”
She glanced around at the frenzy of Elders rushing about without hesitation to comply with his insane requests. She broke free from him. “What is wrong with all of you?” she demanded. “He’ll never survive this. Did any of you hear what I said? I will not let him go.” She turned to Trin, her eyes now filled with desperate tears.
“I will not let you go.”

Trin cupped her face in his hands. “Sam, you know I can do this. I mastered this kind of thing years ago.” He glanced around the room at
the council members arranging for horses to make the trip, deciding who to send with them. “Look around. Do you see anyone here who is the slightest bit concerned, apart from you? You are thinking as a human because it’s all you know,” he said. “But you know better now,” he demanded. “You do.”

She stared back, fighting between her learned fears and the truth.

Trin locked eyes with her. “You know better now.”

Sam stared hard at him, desperation in her face
. “You promise me you can make that swim.”

Trin’s angelic eyes flared.
“I can make that swim.”

Anvil arrived at Trin’s side. “Five of my best warriors are coming from the village,” he said. “Dobrushin says it is ten minutes by horse to the cave system. That’s ten minutes to ride, ten minutes for you to make the swim, and ten minutes to get back with the kindjal. Llamar will go with you in case something goes wrong. We must hurry. We must have that blade before Ashbel returns for it. The solstice is less than an hour away.”

CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT

A
bout fifty miles to the north in the middle of a deep wooded area the young woman drove her carriage through the snowy forest. The night grew quiet, silent tree branches hanging dark above her as she passed beneath them—the wind calming to a nearly nonexistent breeze. With crowded thoughts, she made her way along the snow insulated path, headed toward civilization.

The past year had unearthed so many things she could not explain, so many choices she wished she had never made, and the endless pit of sorrow that never seemed to leave her burrowing deeper.

She thought about the young woman she had rescued today—she was one of them. She marveled at her own ability to help her, still not understanding how. These new powers. She thought about the unborn child growing inside of her. It had all started with this.

But it was the child who kept her going. No matter what choices she had made in the past year, no matter how foolish, she loved this child so much more than anything she could ever have imagined. Her life would be about this baby now. The child was all that mattered. She would get as far away from here as she could.

Preoccupied by her lamenting and speculations, she did not see the dark figure standing in the middle of the snowy path up ahead. Her horse reared up in terror, menacing energy assaulting him as he brayed and tossed his main. The stranger remained, blocking its path. The young woman jerked her head up just in time to see his familiar stunning face darkened by evil, shadowed by a heavy hooded cloak. His eyes glinted in the bright moonlight. Before she could make a
sound she was torn from the carriage by an unseen force, and planted in his muscular embrace.

The horse bucked—iron hooves spouting plumes of snow, breaking free of the carriage right before it went up in flames.

In a blinding flash they were gone. The empty carriage lay smoldering on the deserted path. The horse bolted off into the forest in a fit of terror as the remaining energy vaporized—dissipated into the wind where the couple no longer stood.

Eight stallions galloped at racing speed through the blistering cold night, their hooves dashing up snow with every strike to the frozen powdery ground. Dobrushin took the lead with Trin and Sam behind him. Anvil and his men brought up the back prepared to keep watch while Trin swam the length of the underground cave.

The moon shone against the enchanted snowy landscape casting an eerie glow across the face of the vast mountainside. A mystical quality permeated throughout the surrounding hills and valleys, charging the environment with an invigorating energy as the stars sparkled in the night sky—unearthly, even magical, as the horses thundered toward their destination.

The vast mountainside stretched on, interrupted by the giant mass of icy water housing the cave system. Moonlight spilled like mercury across its rippling surface.

Sam gaped in awe as the men navigated their horses down the path toward the shoreline, rounding curves, boulders, and miniature inclines, following Dobrushin with exact precision.

As they neared the banks of the glacial sea, a hidden crevasse became visible within the gigantic wall of stone, rising at a severe angle from the depths of the dark water. Dobrushin steered his horse into the parted stone cavern, the others following close behind.

Sam studied the cave entrance, throat tightening, barely breathing as she stared into utter darkness. Claustrophobic fear wormed its way through her heart at the thought of Trin disappearing beneath it.

No one could survive this.

Trin stopped the horse, moving to dismount. Sam grabbed the arm holding her and squeezed. “You cannot do this.”

Trin stayed a moment, allowing her to hold him, then lowered his head, resting it against hers. “Sam,” he whispered. “You’ve got to get your head out of the past and rely on what you have learned since.”

Sam loosened her grip and he dismounted. Time passed—time they did not have.

He pulled the protection of the long dark coat off and handed it to Anvil. The accompanying Veduny warriors dismounted their horses as Trin began unbuttoning his heavy black fatigue.

Sam stared, confused. “Trin?”

Silencing her with a glance of electric blue he removed the jacket, giving it to Anvil.

“Samantha, his clothes are too heavy,” Anvil said. “Not only will they slow him down but they will harbor the cold.”

It was at that exact moment that the black T-shirt, the last layer of protection he had against the biting sting of the Russian winter, came off exposing his beautiful upper body.

Sam gripped at the horse’s reins, desperate to allay the rising panic within her. She focused on everything she had seen him do, all the miraculous events she had encountered in his presence, but logic continued to get in the way and she couldn’t convince herself he was not about to endure unspeakable suffering followed by death.

Trin found an area of stone sheltered from the snow and ice. He squatted down, unlacing his boots. Sam steeled herself, looking away. As her eyes drifted from Trin her gaze panned the others. White light gleamed around each one, vibrant, intelligent, expanding outward—their focus...
Trin.

He continued working as their energy combined. Vibrant heat spun a complex fabric of protection that grew and ultimately spread from within each one of them, becoming one with Trin. He appeared unaware, but he wasn’t. Handing his boots to Anvil he pushed the black fatigues over his legs, stepping out of them while simultaneously and consciously receiving and integrating the aid being given him.

Sam reeled at the natural order. Trin did not react in surprise, the men contributed without a word. Aid was given and received freely without a single thought. It was how they lived. They knew no other way. Beneath her fear she found fascination in their faith, the unwavering conviction of this enigmatic people. These men had never met Trin and yet they would die to protect him.

Trin rose, his magnificent body formidable and strong. Llamar appeared at his side, and nodded once.

“We will wait right here,” Anvil said.

Trin looked up at Sam.
I love you. I’ll be right back...just goin’ for a swim.

His heavenly voice sang through her mind and she took a deep breath, trying to believe his words. Closing his eyes, he pulled in a long deep breath, his broad chest rising—filling his lungs with air and expelling it. From his center a slow, churning light formed, radiating outward, generating energy as it continued.

Sam felt a pull—significant energy leaving her. Trin drew from her the same way she had always drawn from him. She opened up to him—grateful, willing him to be safe, willing him to succeed. The pull intensified and she felt him receive it—locking in place. His eyes opened. White light had replaced his usual glacier blue, gleaming like heat from the sun. Sam gave a soft gasp as his muscular arms rose above his head and with a perfect, clean dive he sliced into the black water, disappeared beneath the surface.

Pushing through the water—dark, methodical, rhythmic. Trin’s focus was unshakable. His spirit drove his flesh, fooling his body into thinking it was not losing heat—that his lungs did not need air. The black, icy water challenged the fabrication, creating a steady wall of resistance. The conflict between cold and heat remained a constant companion as he propelled himself forward.

An internal homing device drove him as he traveled the length of the black tunnel. A matrix of branching options became available that usually led to closed pods of solid stone—nothing but dead ends. As closed as he was to acknowledging the cold and need for air, he was just that open to the direction he should swim. Lingering alongside his every move, Llamar abided—tracking, observing, and calculating the steady rhythm of this unbreakable new Keeper. He was a machine, just as the others had expected him to be.

Back at the entrance, Anvil gazed into the dark abyss. A delicate hand took his. He glanced down to find Sam clasping his strong hand in both of hers, drawing comfort from the closest thing she had to Trin. She stared into the water, expression stoic. Anvil’s gaze lingered a moment, then returned to the pool of icy black, allowing her to take what she needed, cloaking the agony he felt at the crushing similarity to Anavi.

After approximately ten minutes of swimming a light became visible in the distant shimmer of water and Trin knew he was close. His lungs begged for air as he continued to quiet the need.

With a few powerful thrusts forward he broke the surface into the stone chamber, sucking in much needed air. His broad muscular shoulders created abrupt rings of water, rippling outward from his massive form as he pushed his hair back from his face. He reached forward in a quick freestyle to the stone edge, placed his hands on the outcropping and hoisted himself out of the water. Icy streams ran in patterns over his broad back and shoulders to the stone platform. He pulled himself to standing, ignoring the aching cold in his muscles and skin and followed the light without hesitation, brightness and warmth increasing as he neared the alcove. He rounded the last corner of the cavernous stone corridor and was met with an awesome sight.

Gleaming in living brilliance, the sealed symbol of Chernobog covered the wall. The enduring legend; the same thing he had seen in Sam’s mind. He fought the temptation to bend to its captivating presence, turning to where Sam said he would find the kindjal.

Moving across the alcove he found the small opening in the wall and looked inside. The ancient relic gleamed in the ghostly light. He reached in and grabbed it. Gasping, he dropped the massive dagger to the stone floor with a loud clatter. Poisonous fire bit into his flesh as every ounce of pain from the night of Anavi’s murder spilled into his hand, shooting up his arm and spreading throughout his body. The grisly energy of the first sacrifice found him as well. Squatting down in front of the toxic blade, gasping for air, his jaw tightened in pain looking from his hand to the knife.

He stared at it, wondering how he would muster the strength to carry it and still maintain a shield against the icy chamber of water.

“Я возьму этот кинжал...”
I’ll take it...

Malevolent energy shuddered through him as the familiar voice offered to take the dagger off his hands. A shock of white erupted around Trin’s body. He stood, turning to face Ashbel. The warrior’s bitter eyes gleamed like polished black onyx, emitting sinister pride and hostility at the new Keeper. Trin stood erect, squaring his shoulders—reading, digging, anticipating the next move of the tainted Veduny.

The corner of Ashbel’s mouth twitched upward and like lightning he lunged forward. A direct side kick to the sternum sent Ashbel flying backward into the cavern wall giving Trin only a split second to dive for
the kindjal, but Ashbel’s recovery was too quick. As Trin made impact with the floor reaching for the dagger he took a direct blow to the abdomen, recoiling from the relic.