Birthright (The Stone Legacy Series Book 5) (20 page)

Chapter Thirty-Four

Zanya

After Arwan left, she changed into the training gear her mother had brought from Renato’s home.

She’d never been close with anyone who was pregnant, but she did study human anatomy and reproductive health in the orphanage, so pregnancy wasn’t completely foreign.

She hadn’t experienced any morning sickness yet—though that probably wouldn’t come for a few weeks, at least. Her belly wasn’t swollen at all, and wouldn’t be for a good while—for a normal human child, at least. In this case, it was anyone’s guess. She’d enjoy her figure while it lasted, and use her training gear as long as she could.

She tied her hair into a ponytail and secured her stone into its home on her wrist, then walked outside into the humid jungle air. Everyone was just waking up, and most of the tents were still zipped shut with their sleeping occupants inside.

It was the perfect opportunity to have a quiet, private discussion with Grima—the other half of the two petrifiers.

The only problem was, besides Tara and Peter’s, she didn’t know whose tent was whose.

She crept through the quiet campsite, listening for any sounds that would tip her off. Each enclosure was large enough to accommodate two normal sized people, which meant both of the Viking petrifiers would have their own accommodations, seeing they were both larger than the average Riyata.

Snoring tipped her off on Beigarth’s location. Grima wouldn’t be far. Zanya tiptoed further until she heard loud breaths rising from a nearby tent. She paused beside it, listening to the low, hushed snores. It
had
to be Grima. But Zanya couldn’t exactly knock on the tent door, and didn’t want to call her name and wake the rest of the camp.

Thankfully, she had a skill that was silent and effective—dreamwalking.

Zanya closed her eyes and used her ability to find Grima and connect with her mind. It was clear she was in a deep slumber, as the bond between her and the lady Viking was clouded. She nudged Grima’s mind to wake her, but the haze didn’t clear.

Zanya withdrew from the mental intrusion and opened her eyes. The heavy breathing continued. Maybe she didn’t snore as loudly, but she was just as heavy of a sleeper as Beigarth. Zanya was left with no choice but to go in and wake her in person.

She pinched the zipper of the tent door and slid it in a clockwise arch. A large bulge of writhing blankets stirred inside. Maybe she was finally waking up. “Grima.”

The movement stopped.

“Grima, wake up.” Zanya set her hand on what she assumed was a foot.

There was a gasp, and Hawa sat straight up, the blanket secured under her arms, covering her bare chest. Jayden popped up beside her. “What the hell,” Hawa said. “A little privacy, please?”

Zanya bolted to her feet and stumbled back, tripping over the tent behind her. She flailed and nearly fell backward, but caught herself on a stone arch instead.

Jayden crawled out of the tent with a blanket wrapped around his waist. “Is everything okay?”

“No, everything is
not
okay,” Zanya whispered harshly, now shielding her eyes from Jayden’s half-nakedness. “Oh my god, get some clothes on!”

“I’m not the one who barged into a tent! I thought something happened!”

“I told you it was probably nothing,” Hawa taunted from the tent. “Now get back here.”

“Yes, please.” Zanya waved him on. “Go back in there.” She covered her face with both hands, heat filling her cheeks.

“I was just making sure,” Jayden said.

“Yeah, well, now I’m cold,” Hawa snapped back. “You let all the heat out.”

“Mmm, I can warm you—”

“No.” Zanya covered her ears. “Absolutely not.” She turned away from them, determined not to hear another word of their sexy banter.

She wasn’t upset Jayden had moved on—even though Hawa was a surprising choice—but at this point, Jay was more like a brother than a boy she once loved, and the thought of him with some girl was just too much.

Her skin crawled, and she did a little cootie dance to shake it off.

“Are ye looking for me, lass?”

Zanya dropped her hands and stared down at Grima, who had poked out of the tent Zanya had tripped over. Zanya nodded, doing anything and everything to forget her horrifying encounter with the lovebirds. “I need to talk to you.” She fanned her face with her hand, trying to ease the heat in her cheeks.

“I felt ye knock.” Grima tapped her finger on her temple. She stood from her tent, her strawberry hair glistening in the soft morning sun. The others would be up soon, and Arwan would be ready to cook the meat he cleaned. Luckily, the slight disruption didn’t wake anyone else, but she had better make this quick and not push her luck.

She waved Grima toward the tree line. “Can we take a walk?”

Grima slipped her feet in a pair of leather shoes and tied a leather belt over what looked like a cross between a vest and robe. “Aye.”

Zanya walked toward the fruit trees, where Cualli had been keeping a plentiful stock for the group to eat freely. Not all of the fruits they had were native to Mexico, but it was a perk of having a flower and plant goddess as an ally.

“What can I do ye for?” Grima asked, her soft tone both curious and cautious.

“I wanted to ask you something.” Zanya reached up and plucked a ripe, red pomegranate from a branch. She pressed it to her nose, inhaling the sweet aroma. “Why is Beigarth so determined not to show me how to petrify? I may be the guardian, but if nobody teaches me how to use my abilities, I’ll have to try on my own.”

“That’s not a keen idea, lass. Not in the least bit.”

“But why?” she asked, though she knew exactly why. The ability was deadly. Not only that, but it was non-reversible, and it could turn on her if she lost even the smallest bit of control. But if she didn’t push the subject, she’d never get answers. Sorry to say, a scare tactic was her last resort.

“Beigarth’s heart is in the right place, dear. Ye have to trust that.”

“I can’t just pretend I’m not capable of petrifying. It’s a valuable tool. I saw how Beigarth dealt with that hellhound in the underworld.”

“Aye. And did ye see what happened to the beast? It turned to dust.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Dear, when ye petrify a thing, yer taking away its soul. Ye turn it to stone. A dead, lifeless thing that’s cold when it’s cold outside, and hot when it’s hot. There’s not a grain of life left in it. Not ever again.”

Zanya held up the fruit. “Can you show me? Just once, and I won’t ask you again.” She extended the ripe fruit. “Please.”

Grima examined it a moment, then took it from Zanya’s hand. “Lass…” Grima’s eyes narrowed. “This is no ability to use without thought put into it first. Once ye learn how to use it, ye must control yer emotions and never let anger tear it out of ye. It can…” The corners of Grima’s mouth turned down. “It will take something from ye if ye let it. It will take someone dear if ye can’t control it.” Grima lowered her gaze. “And it will tear yer heart out.”

***

Arwan

He washed his hands clean of blood and bits of flesh from the white-tail deer Balam had caught for the camp. The edible organs were harvested and sat in a pail of water, while the deer hung upside down from a tree, its back legs spread to show a gaping, empty torso exposing its ribs.

He crinkled his nose from the smell of blood that overwhelmed his senses. But the deer would feed the group for a few days before Balam would have to hunt again.

The only task left was to section the animal and haul the meat back to the house. That was another task entirely. First he’d skin it. The fur would make for a good lining to a crib once the baby arrived. Meanwhile, it would keep Zanya warm at night.

He removed a knife crafted from bone—ideal for skinning animals. It kept from punching holes in the hide, unlike a steel knife that cut through anything it touched.

He had Renato to thank for teaching him how to process an animal. It was a survival skill he would use for the rest of his life, and hopefully pass down to his daughter when the time was right.

“I was sent to check on you.”

Arwan ground his teeth and stood, the blade secure in his hand. Eleuia never found him alone unless she wanted to antagonize him. Whatever she had to say, it couldn’t be good.

Without acknowledging she was there, he approached the deer and pulled aside a flap of skin, then nicked small, precise cuts in the white layer of tissue bonding the skin with muscle.

“Actually, I volunteered to come check on you and your project here.”

He sensed her behind him, and kept a sharp ear out for any quick movements. Though she’d tolerated him up to this point, there was no telling what she had up her sleeve. If she did come here with ill intent, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Arwan worked to skin it as quickly as possible. Hair stuck to his fingers as traces of blood began to dry.

He paused and pushed down a wave of nausea.

He’d never been disgusted by blood in the past. But after his last experience in the underworld, it made him think of only one thing.

“Listen…” Eleuia walked to his side, where he watched her in his peripheral vision. “I’m just trying to do what’s best for my daughter.”

He made circular incisions around the hooves of the animal, and then straight cuts up its legs toward the belly. “What’s best for her is not making her stressed every time you’re around her.”

She said nothing in response.

“What do you want?” He made one last cut, and then lifted the whole pelt off of the deer and laid it fur side down on the ground.

“We’re going to be in each other’s lives,” Eleuia said. “That’s impossible to avoid now that you got Zanya pregnant.”

He paused and clenched his jaw. “You should try not to talk about your grandchild like she’s some kind of infectious disease.”

“She?” Eleuia shifted her weight. “Do you know it’s a girl?”

He rolled the pelt and shoved it into a pack to clean when he got back to the house. “Zanya says it has to be a girl. You should know better than anyone.” He stood and cut the animal down from where it hung, then began slicing into the meat. “You haven’t told me why you’re really here.”

She crouched and balanced her forearms on her knees, her fingers laced in front of her. “Renato saw something in you. Cualli sees it too. But most importantly, Zanya sees it.”

Arwan looked up at her.

“You’re the father of that baby. As long as you take responsibility for that, and treat Zanya as she deserves…”

“She means more to me than my own life, and I would gladly lay it down to protect her. I have, and I will always put her and our family first. No matter what.”

Eleuia held his gaze, and then nodded. “All right, then.” She stood. “I guess that’s all there is to talk about.” She grabbed the sack of deer pelt and hauled it off the ground. “We’re waiting for you back at camp. It’s time to train.”

“She shouldn’t be training. I tried to tell her that, but she won’t listen. Maybe you can talk some sense into her.”

Eleuia snorted. “No one can talk sense into her. You should know that by now. Besides.” She paused and looked back at him. “She’s not training. You are.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Zanya

“Please,” Zanya said. “I know it’s a risk, but…” Arwan would be done processing the deer soon. They were running out of time. “Everyone else is going to fight with their lives, and if I can’t protect them, everyone will die. Including me—and my baby.”

Grima’s lip twitched.

“Please. I can’t learn this ability without you. All of our lives depend on it.”

Grima turned the pomegranate in her hand, staring at its red, smooth surface. A deep exhale followed the tightening of her jaw. “If ye swear not to use it unless ye have no other choice. No practicing. Not even a wee bit. Do ye understand me clearly, lass?”

Zanya nodded. “I swear it.”

“Ye need to stand away from me if I’m to show ye how it’s done.”

Zanya shifted back. “How far?”

Grima’s features hardened. “Far, lass. Very far.”

Zanya did as she was told, and moved under the shade of the trees while Grima cupped the fruit in both hands.

“Is a terrible thing ye do when ye petrify a thing,” Grima went on. “Ye must clear your mind and concentrate on not a single thing. Find a void inside—a quiet place where nothing lives. Close your eyes not to be distracted by anything around ye.”

“In the underworld, Beigarth didn’t seem to do any of that.”

“Aye. My cousin is a master of the curse.”

“Curse? Our abilities aren’t a curse. They’re a gift.”

“No, lass.” Grima spread her fingers over the pomegranate. Bits of red showed through the gaps in her fingers. She brought it up to eye level. “Not this.” Grima closed her eyes, and the jungle suddenly stilled. It was as if the wind stopped blowing, the birds quieted, and everything around them muted in anticipation—or maybe fear.

There was no light to signal Grima was using her ability. No obvious sign to tell it was over. Just the silence, and Grima’s saddened expression.

A tiny ripple punched through the air, so small it was almost unnoticeable. But Zanya sensed it. It carried the same cold, desperate panic as when something was terribly wrong, and there was no way to fix it. That hollow, carved-out hole in the gut—that was what the ability felt like.

When Grima opened her eyes, she unveiled the once vibrant fruit to show a gray, lifeless stone resting in her palm. “Ye see, lass. There’s not a hint of life left in it.”

Zanya stepped forward to inspect it closer. “Is it safe to touch?”

“Aye.”

Zanya picked up the heavy ball. It was cold, though it had the same smooth surface as it did before it was changed. “Does everything come out like this? I mean, it looks exactly the way it did.”

“Aye. But when ye change a living thing that’s more than a wee fruit, you feel it deep in yer bones.” She gestured to her face with two fingers. “Anything with eyes. They become hollow, and ye know yer to blame.”

Zanya nodded. “So there’s a price to pay.”

“Aye.” Grima turned halfway, making it clear she was done with the demonstration. “A terrible price.”

***

Arwan

Back at the training house, Arwan handed the meat off to Beigarth, who had more experience handling a fresh kill than the others. While the Viking washed and stored the meat, Arwan rinsed the brown, dried blood from his hands.

It had been a long time since he’d scrubbed blood from between his fingers. It reminded him of the possibility…the possibility of having the blood of his fallen comrades stain his skin.

When he was done, he walked out to the campground in search of the others. Eleuia waited for him with her hands shoved into the pockets of her fleece sweater, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail.

It was amazing how much Zanya looked like her, though he’d never been willing to see it until now.

“Ready?”

He narrowed his eyes, still apprehensive of her sudden change of heart. “For what?”

“Like I said.” She extended her hand toward the protected circle, where the others were loosely gathered. “Training.”

“We have bigger things to worry about than
my
training.”

Eleuia tilted her head, her features suddenly sobered. “What does that mean?”

He walked past her to the center of the training circle. The group quieted and gathered around. He spotted Zanya, on the far right beside Grima, while Eleuia stood on the opposite side of the group beside Marzena.

“Listen up.” There was no polite wording for what he was about to tell them, so it was better to be as straight and concise as possible. They were almost out of time. “The situation is worse than we thought.”

The group stole silent glances at one another.

“Contessa was dangerous, but she was the only one standing between us and something worse.”

“Worse?” Hawa said.

Flashes from the underworld tore through his mind—the warmth of his own blood as it flowed from his veins, the sounds of tearing flesh and bone while the hellhound tore Contessa apart, and the pile of half-eaten guts mounded beside him on the scorching ground.

“I know you all want me to tell you what happened down there.” Only Zanya had seen him suffer every night since his return. If he expected the others to fight, they needed to know. “Contessa was not alone in the underworld. The king…my father, was there too.”

“I’ve told them that much,” Zanya said. “But nothing more, and you don’t have to either.”

“To hell with that,” Jayden said. “I want to know. Was he the one who killed Renato?”

Arwan could only manage a simple nod.

“Then I say we fuck him up.”

The others nodded in agreement.

“We won’t have to go looking for him,” Arwan continued. “He’s going to come to us. He, and an army of damned souls.”

“When you say army…” Tara coiled her arm around Peter’s.

“It will be like a sea.” Marzena’s voice filled them in where Arwan could not. “They will rise from the dark realm and there will be no end to the soldiers at his command.”

“How the hell are we supposed to fight that?” Hawa said.

“We will not,” Marzena said. “We will flee.”

“No.” Zanya stepped forward. “We can’t.”

Marzena tilted her head ever so slightly. “Then we will die.”

“We’re going to die anyway if we run like cowards. They’ll take over the middleworld, and millions of innocent people will become victims before they get to us.” Zanya lifted her chin. “But it
will
get to us, sooner or later.”

“Then we fight,” Eadith said, her eyes gleaming with fire.

“Aye.” Grima nodded. “We fight.”

The Arab windthrowers pushed out their chests. “We fight, and if we die, we die with honor.”

“We must send Tara to safety,” Marzena said. “Back to Renato’s home in Belize.”

“What? No way.” Tara pushed out her chin. “I can’t leave you guys. Not when—”

“This isn’t up for debate,” Peter said. “You’re going.”

“There
is
another option.” Eleuia looked at Zanya—at the stone. “We could use another fighter, and the stone
was
created with the power to turn humans to Riyata.”

Tara’s already pale complexion drained of color. She pursed her lips. “What, like…change me…into one of you?”

Marzena’s features hardened. “That is not a decision to be taken lightly.”

“And it would take a whole hell of a lot of energy from Zanya,” Eleuia said.

“Which we can’t ask her to spend.” Arwan shifted his weight. “Even if she were changed, she would need time to adjust and train in both combat and her new capabilities.”

“We don’t have that kind of time,” Peter said. “Maybe…” He looked at Tara. “Maybe when we go home we can talk about it more. We are going home.” He wound his arm around Tara. “All of us. Together.”

Tara swallowed and nodded. “Yeah.” The word came out in a breathless whisper. “When we go home, maybe.”

“Then it’s settled. But make no mistake. Everyone understands your lives are at risk,” Marzena said. “You are all willing to die for this cause?”

Eleuia stepped forward. “Before everyone goes full-on martyr, I have an idea.” She inspected Arwan closely. “You.” She walked in a circle around him, her stare boring into his skin. “You’re pretty impressive when you’re…” she whirled her hand in the air, “…the other you.”

Arwan tightened his jaw. “No.”

“You even somehow escaped the underworld on your own, without any help from your father. In fact, you left that realm against his will, didn’t you?”

“I will not fight as a beast.”

“Why not?” She stopped walking. “You have to admit, you’d be a more valuable fighter if you did.” She counted the points out on her fingers. “You’re stronger, faster, and more deadly. You can take more hits, fight harder and longer, and you can protect them.” She gestured to Zanya—
them
, including the baby. “Isn’t that what you want?”

Arwan narrowed his eyes. He should have known Eleuia’s act of accepting him—even for a moment—was a tactic to get something out of it. He would do anything to protect Zanya, but he would not change simply to amuse Eleuia. No matter what she used as bait.

Besides, he had one more piece of news to share.

“That’s not going to be a problem, because Zanya is going with Tara, back to Belize.” He looked at Zanya. “And she is going to stay there.”

Zanya snorted. “The hell I am.”

“I won’t allow you to put yourself at risk.”

“Excuse me?” Her lips parted and she took on a defensive stance. “I’m sorry, did I just hear you right? You won’t ‘
allow me
?’”

“This is not only your decision to make,” Arwan said, heat rushing through him. “Not anymore. You are carrying my unborn child, and I will do what it takes to keep you both safe.”

“Well, until you grow a uterus and take on the job of being pregnant, you have exactly zero right to make that decision.”

He balled his fists. “That’s not fair.”

“You’re right. It’s not.” Zanya glared. “But that’s how it is.”

Arwan drew in a deep, shaky breath, working hard to stay calm. The beast rattled inside him, protesting to be set free. Even though Arwan now controlled it, that didn’t mean he did not struggle with the urge to be let it out—especially when provoked.

“You’d still be a better fighter,” Eleuia said. “Whether Zanya stays or not. Come on. Beast it up.” She waved him on, as if prompting him to hurry. “Let’s see it.”

Arwan scanned the faces in the group, all of them watching intently.

Drina had been silently standing in the back. She out of all people knew what he was, yet she made no effort to interrupt Eleuia’s effort at making him into a side-show exhibit.

“You have nothing to say?” Arwan asked, staring at Drina.

Drina smiled—a reaction he didn’t expect. “You are who you are, boy. You must be who you are.”