Birthright (The Stone Legacy Series Book 5) (6 page)

Chapter Ten

Zanya

Again, losing sight of her first rule only proved to blind her from the inevitable.

Zanya sat on the bed, watching Arwan shove supplies into his hiking pack. He worked feverishly—blindly, even—as if the rest of the world no longer existed. Sweat collected on his brow and his eyes were narrow while he carefully counted the rest of their protein bars and divided them into rations for the day’s hike to the Temple of Inscriptions.

“Arwan…” She stood, lingering beside the bed. He didn’t look up from the supplies, nor did he give any kind of indication he even heard her call his name. She took a hesitant step forward. “Arwan.” She was careful to keep her tone gentle. “Are you okay?”

He finally looked up at her. “What?”

“I…” She bit the inside of her cheek. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” He grabbed one stack of protein bars and slipped them into a small pouch in his pack, then zipped it shut. “You should get your things. We could leave tonight…” He paused, seemingly considering their options. “No. That’s too dangerous. We need the daylight. More roots could rise, and we may not see them in time in the dark.”

Zanya twisted her fingers. Maybe
he
was fine, but her gut wrenched over the fact he didn’t notice
she
was absolutely
not
okay. “I don’t know if I can do this.” She shook her head, replaying the horrific scene of the birds being pulled underground. “I can’t—” She choked on her words and lowered herself back onto the mattress. “How could this be happening?”

“It’s happening.” He stood and tossed his pack on the foot of the bed. “We need to be ready for it.”

“I just…” She cradled her head in her hands, struggling for every breath. “It’s all happening so fast.”

Arwan walked toward her and sat on the mattress beside her. “Zanya…” He draped his hand over her leg.

She pulled away. “No.” She buried her fingers deeper into her hair. “Just…give me a minute.” She swallowed down the acid in her throat and pushed back tears, all to conquer the onset of a panic attack. It was just like when she was in the orphanage, except this time Tara wasn’t there to talk her through it.

Her stone grew cold against her wrist, filling her with the peace she needed to steady her breath. She lowered her hands to her lap. When she finally looked at Arwan, his fingers were laced together with his forearms on his knees. He sat in absolute silence, his tense features and focused stare making it clear he had dived deep into thought.

She ached to know exactly what was trolling through his mind. Where his imagination had wandered and if he was thinking about her. But after a lifetime of knowing his mother was raped, then carried him for nine months in disgust, only to abandon him before subjecting herself to death—this new revelation proved there was more to his mother’s story than he believed.

That
he
was more to
her
than he believed.

Zanya hung her head. How selfish could she be? “I’m sorry. It’s just been a lot of change in a short amount of time, and I’m still wrapping my mind around it all.”

He laced his fingers between hers. “I know. It’s been a lot for me too.” He squeezed her hand. “And I know you miss Renato and your mother.”

Zanya pursed her lips. “I spent my entire childhood missing my mother.” She huffed. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? She was gone all those years, and now that she’s back, a part of me wishes she weren’t.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true. If she weren’t here, we would still be in Belize with Renato, Tara, Peter, Jay, and Hawa…” Her stomach tightened, sending another pulse of bile up her throat. “I’d probably be training right now, learning how to use my abilities better. Especially now that the others are there—Eadith, Beigarth, and Grima, and those two Arab windthrowers.” She peered at her empty backpack lying in the corner of the room. “Now that I think about it, my mom hasn’t just exiled us, but she killed any chance of me learning how to take her place.” A coil of heat wound through her. She parted her lips. “Maybe that’s it.” She stood, letting go of Arwan’s hand. “Maybe she’s jealous.”

“Jealous?”

Her eyes widened. “It makes so much sense now.” It was the reason her mother hated Arwan being in the home. Why her mother discouraged her from wanting to learn Grima and Beigarth’s petrifying ability. Why when she and Arwan bonded, they were forced to choose.

It was all jealousy.

Her mother regretted no longer being the Stone Guardian, and didn’t want to see anyone surpass her own performance in that role. Even her own daughter.

She peered at the pack a moment longer, and then walked across the room and snatched it off the floor. “She’s jealous of me—of us.” She knelt beside the drawers and opened one at a time, shoving pieces of clothes into her bag. “She and my dad never bonded because he was human, and she hates that I got everything she never had.” She stuffed the last piece of clothing in her pack and zipped it shut. “That has to be it.”

“I don’t know.” Arwan stood and paced the length of the wall. “It does make sense.”

“Hell, yeah, it makes sense.” Zanya put on her pack. “But I’m not going to let her win.” She touched the leather wristband with her stone held inside. “Let’s go, before it gets too dark out.”

Arwan stopped pacing. “Now?”

“Yes, now.”

“But the tree. We have to be able to see its vines while moving through the jungle.”

“You keep watch as we hike, and I’ll use every ability at my disposal to keep us safe if something comes up.” She walked toward the door.

Arwan hooked his hand around her arm, making her pause. “Are you sure about this? Because if you are, I’ll follow you. I’ll trust you, and your abilities.”

Zanya tightened her jaw, recalling her mother’s shrieking voice and trembling hands as she cast them out. As her mother, the one person who should have run to her defense, ordered her to choose—her family, or Arwan.

At one time, she would have chosen her mother over anyone. Now everything had changed.

“I’m the Stone Guardian, and I’m going to prove to you, my mother, and everyone else that I can do this—with or without
her
help.”

***

Arwan

He followed behind Zanya, using game trails and breaks in the thick jungle terrain. He managed to keep up with her pace, though barely.

Something inside of her had changed.

She was stronger now. More capable. More determined. Nothing she hadn’t been since the moment he met her. Except now it came from a different place. A place he knew all too well, having lived in the same dark hole in his heart for too many years.

He scanned the jungle floor ten paces ahead, always keeping an eye out for movement under the leaves. Every hanging vine was suddenly a threat. The entire jungle had turned on them, and there was little he could do to keep her safe if the tree knew where they were and chose to strike.

He furrowed his brow.

Or perhaps it was being told where to strike.

“Zanya.” He quickened his pace several steps and caught up with her. “I think Contessa knows where we are.”

“Why do you say that?” Her eyes stayed focused ahead when she spoke, not shifting to him even for a moment.

“The tree swallowed the birds, but it didn’t touch us.”

“Because we ran to the house.”

“Or…”

She finally glanced at him. “Or what?”

“Or it was
told
not to take us.”

Zanya snorted. “Now trees are taking orders?” She seemed to contemplate his suggestion, and then slowed down for the first time since they’d left.

“This isn’t an ordinary tree. You’ve seen what it can do. It tore those underworlders apart at Sarian’s command. It could do the same in this realm if it’s given permission from whoever possesses the Popul Vuh.”

“Which is Contessa.”

“Exactly.” A gentle, humid breeze wove through the trees, carrying the stench of rotting flesh. His throat tightened. “Do you smell that?” The odor burned the back of his throat and filled his lungs. He covered his mouth, fighting the urge to gag.

Zanya lifted her nose in the air. “I don’t smell anything.”

Something must have died, and his keen sense of smell wouldn’t allow him to overlook it.

When the stench grew more pungent, Zanya crinkled her nose. “Oh my god.” She covered her mouth with her sleeve. “I smell it now.”

“Stay close.” He shifted in front of her and crept forward. Hundreds of years of fallen leaves and spongy moss cushioned each step. The rising heat seemed to intensify the funk, making it almost unbearable to his heightened senses. He coughed and closed his mouth, but it was too late. The full impact of it had coated his tongue and slid down his throat.

When the plant life thinned and the trees became sparse, he saw it—them—lying on the ground, consumed by crawling vines.

Tapir, rabbit, fowl, deer, all in a mangled, broken mixture of sunken-in bodies, drained of fluids. Blood stained the soil, guts stretched over cracks in the ground, and wide, empty eyes stared sightlessly. The animals’ ribs pushed against thin layers of fur as if they’d been eaten from the inside out.

“If what I suspect is true,” Arwan said in a low voice, “this is a message.”

The light in Zanya’s chest burst to life. “She’s watching us.”

The distant snapping of branches caught his ear, though it was so far in the distance, Zanya didn’t notice it. “We have to keep moving. The Temple of Inscriptions is only a few miles away, but it will take us several hours to reach, considering the terrain.”

“Not with a little help.” She stretched out her hands, and moments later, clusters of clouds rolled toward them. They gathered into dark, looming shadows, as if a tornado were forming overhead.

Zanya squared her stance, her face tilted to the changing atmosphere.

He’d only seen her use her windthrowing ability once, when he had unleashed his darker half, and she was out to kill him. He was fully aware of how treacherous this ability could be. Trees bowed to the fierce winds, and a dark funnel formed, reaching down from the sky.

Zanya pulled him behind her. “You may want to stay behind me.”

Chapter Eleven

Zanya

Zanya squinted against the force of the winds, calling on the inner strengths she’d inherited from her bloodline. Her stone hummed loyally against her wrist, infusing her with more power than she could conjure on her own. As a team, she and her stone were unstoppable.

“If we appear to be a threat, Contessa may order the tree after us!” The roar of the storm reduced Arwan’s voice to a mere whisper in the distance.

“I’m not going after that tree.” She pivoted and extended her hands, directing the vortex straight toward the Temple of Inscriptions. “I’m going after the rest of them—all the way to the ruins.”

Arwan’s grip on her tightened. The winds intensified, stripping leaves and tearing off branches from tress that must have been hundreds of years old.

“Hang on, this is going to get rough!” She stretched her hands forward, pushing the storm through the jungle. The cracking of tree trunks was like claps of thunder. Winds sliced at the jungle, chewing anything green out of the ground and clearing enough of the foliage so they could complete their journey to the Temple of Inscriptions before nightfall.

Once the path was clear, Zanya lowered her arms to her sides, urging the light in her chest to dull. The winds faded until the sky stilled. Her muscles throbbed, and a deep fatigue washed through her, draining her face of heat. She examined the road of churned soil and grinned. “Well.” She wiped her sweaty palms down the front of her jeans. “Not bad, if I do say so myself.”

Arwan raked his fingers through his hair and grinned. “Not bad at all.”

“We had better get moving.” She rubbed her fingers together, measuring how much energy she had left after conjuring the storm. Unfortunately, the test revealed she had nothing. Completely tapped. Until she built up her endurance, it was important to pick and choose when she exhausted herself. That, or end up defenseless at the worst possible moment.

The rest of the hike to the ruin was uneventful. Arwan insisted on walking ahead of her to look out for any more signs of danger. All the while, she couldn’t stop thinking about the scene of carnage they’d left behind.

She’d read about the tree a while back in a leather journal Renato had
borrowed
from Contessa’s library. She frowned. That was before she and Arwan had braved the underworld to retrieve Jayden’s soul.

Her heart ached at the thought of Jayden, back at home. She couldn’t find him before she and Arwan left. He was probably worried sick.

Her mother may have wronged her, but the others hadn’t, and she desperately missed Jayden’s sarcasm and Tara’s watery laugh. There was no telling when they’d see each other again.

She caught up with Arwan in the next few steps and stopped beside him, staring at the ruin. “Well, there it is.”

Arwan shifted in silence. He seemed nervous or worried. Or maybe a little of both. Still, if his mother was right, they needed to know what was in that temple.

She took his hand. “Come on. We’ll go up together.”

***

Arwan

The temple was more enormous than he imagined. Hundreds of narrow stairs led up to a single room with an open door. As they approached the top, the stories his mother had told him as a child echoed in his mind. This temple was more than the remains of an ancient civilization. It was a chapter in history, with truth etched into stone tablets inside.

When they reached the top, Arwan leaned on one of the arched entrances, the stone cool and textured beneath his skin.

“Do we go inside?” Zanya asked between heavy breaths. Her normally flushed cheeks were drained of color, only accentuating the shadows that had formed under her eyes.

“I know you’re exhausted, but we need light. Do you think you can provide some?”

“I don’t know. I’m done in.” She unclasped the pouch on her wrist and slipped out her stone. “But we can ask for a little help.”

“Good enough.”

She must have noticed the quiet hesitation in his voice. “Everything’s going to be okay. I promise.” She set her fingers over her stone. “Some light, please.” It gleamed, and she looked up at him. “After you.”

Arwan turned and faced the dark void. The glyphs could tell him anything, and he’d have to be willing to accept the truth—whatever that may be.

He stepped inside, followed by Zanya, who held the stone in front of her. It filled the room with a soft, white light.

He skimmed his fingers along the etchings in the large tablets, snapping fragile cobwebs and coating his hands in dust. The stories this temple held were thousands of years old, passed down by the elders of his people.

“My mother once told me the name of this temple means
House of the Nine Sharpened Spears
.” His voice echoed in the space, bouncing off the stone walls. It had been many years since he'd read the language of the Maya, and even longer since he'd spoken it aloud.

“Can you understand any of this?” Zanya paused and held the stone closer to the wall, examining the markings.

Thankfully, the skill of reading his language hadn’t faded completely. He peered at the symbols, one after the other, sounding out the words in his head before translating to Zanya. “This speaks of the creation of the middleworld. It says, ‘Here is the story of the beginning, when there was not a single bird, nor a single fish, or a single mountain. There is only sky. It is lonely. There is the sea. It too is alone. There is nothing more. No sound, no movement. Only the sky and the sea, lonely and silent. The three, known collectively as Heart-of-Sky, existed. And these are their names: Modeler, Star, and Hurricane.”

“Who are they?”

“The gods of Tamoanchan—the heaven gods. The creation gods.” He continued reading. “Then Heart-of-Sky says, ‘Who is there to speak our name? How shall I create the dawn?’ Heart-of-Sky only speaks the word, ‘Earth,’ and the earth rises, like a fog from the sea. They simply think of it, and it appears. They ponder on mountains, and they come. They ponder on trees, and they come as well, sprouting from the land. And so Heart-of-Sky says, ‘Our work is good.’ Then they paint creatures in the forest—deer, birds, snakes, and such. And each is given a home. But Heart-of-Sky is not satisfied. The creatures cannot pray or speak their name, so Heart-of-Sky tries again. They form a new creation with the ability to respect and give praise. Their new creation is made of mud and earth. It was pleasing to the eye, and it reproduced. So Heart-of-Sky allowed them to live and flourish on earth.’” He moved to the next column of glyphs. “‘When Heart-of-Sky was pleased, they allowed their creation to populate the middleworld. But there was a flaw in their design. Mankind had the hearts of lions and were capable of love, but their flesh was weak. They perish from injury. They perish from famine. They perish from disease. Middleworld gods, those deemed to guard earth, pleaded with Heart-of-Sky to grant mankind a defense. They recognized the dark realm envied them, desiring the middleworld for themselves. Out of pity for mankind, Heart-of-Sky created a…” He smirked and looked at Zanya. “You’ll like this part.” Zanya leaned in closer, waiting silently for him to continue. “‘Heart-of-Sky created a stone, and in it poured the blood from Heart-of-Sky, giving it life and power.’”

Zanya’s stone pulsed with light, as if it knew he was reading about it. Perhaps it did.

“What next?” Zanya’s eyes widened like a child.

“Heart-of-Sky delivered the stone to a keeper, who was tasked with guarding it. Though man was stronger in brute strength, Heart-of-Sky agreed woman would be the guardian. Her passion, love, and fierce protectiveness far outweighed man, making her superior.”

“Well, look at that.” Zanya rocked back on her heels with her chest puffed out. “It says it right there. Women are superior.”

“Who am I to argue with Heart-of-Sky?”

She glared playfully at him. “Smooth.”

He winked and took her hand. “Come on. We have to go to the central tablet. There’s more.” Once in front of the new slab of glyphs, he examined the symbol of a star etched at the top. “‘While Modeler and Hurricane admired their creation, Star’s soul was stricken with grief. Rather than linger in a haze of glory, she saw the truth. Mankind was doomed. Even with their blood in the stone, and a guardian to harness its power, it was not enough. Star watched for generations. Dark forces from the underworld grew in strength, striking at their fragile creation. Man’s delicate nature could not be changed. Even with the guardian…’” Arwan touched the next column of glyphs. “There had to be more.”

“More?”

“This section is titled something different—it’s written differently too.” He tilted his head examining it. “A premonition…”

“From the creation gods?”

He nodded. “Exactly. A premonition of the future. ‘Star showed Modeler and Hurricane, whose pride was too great to agree. Star’s heart bled. Guilt consumed her. She pleaded with Modeler and Hurricane to grant her release and allow her to protect man in the middleworld. They agreed, but with one condition—her reign as Star in Heart-of-Sky would be complete. She would be stripped of her crown. She would become mortal.’”

“Whoa. Talk about generous,” Zanya said. “That’s a big sacrifice in the name of being noble.”

He stepped back. “I don’t understand how any of this can help.” He dropped his gaze. “Maybe she was giving me false hope.”

“There’s one more tablet.” She nudged him playfully. “Come on.” She took his hand and pulled him aside. “We came all this way. We can’t stop now.”

He followed, and lingered in front of the final tablet before he continued reading. “‘Star conceded to their condition. Her crown was torn from her head. She fell from the heavens, landing in the sea. Many days she lived hungry, cold, and afraid.’”

“A good deed never goes unpunished,” Zanya mumbled. When he looked at her, she bit her lip. “Sorry. Keep going.”

“‘But Star was clever. There was a quality to being mortal she did not have as part of Heart-of-Sky. Now, as woman, she could become…’” Arwan tilted his head. “‘
Pregnant
.’” The word slipped from his lips as the heat in his body spiked. “My gods,” he whispered. He continued reading. “‘Star walked day and night to a dark corner of the earth. There she found Yaxche, and journeyed to the underworld.’”

“So she gave up her place as a creation goddess, all to be cold and hungry, and then go down to hell? For what? And how, if she wasn’t underworld herself?”

“She must have had help…”

“Help?” Zanya paused. “But…why?”

The darkness inside of him clawed at his chest, reminding him who he was. Though his legs began to feel weak, he forced himself to read on. “‘The king of the underworld gazed upon Star’s beauty. She…’” He blinked, his voice quivering as he read on. “‘She seduced him and…lay with him.’” He swallowed the sick heat collecting under his tongue. “‘She gave her body to the king, and in that union…became pregnant.’” A single tear streaked down his face. “‘The child was born under a full moon, unaware his creation was a union of heaven and hell. The son…’” He gulped in a breath. His legs quivered. “‘The son of both Star and beast, a bloodline of royalty weaving together two realms, uniting powers of good and evil.’”

With a rush of nausea, he turned and dropped to his knees, then vomited on the stone floor.

“Arwan!” Zanya knelt beside him, her hands set on his back. “My god. You’re shaking.”

“This can’t be—” The beast inside plowed into his heart, forcing him to collapse onto the cold ground. Heat drained from his face and the tips of his fingers chilled. Sweat slicked his skin.

“What’s wrong?” She ran her hands over his body. “I can’t sense anything.”

He couldn’t find the breath to respond.

“Come on, sit up. You have to sit up.” She hooked her arms around him and hauled him upright, propping his back against the wall. She knelt in front of him, panic streaking her features. “I can heal you if you just tell me what’s wrong. I don’t know how to sense illnesses yet. I…” She cupped his face in her hands and searched his eyes. “
Please
.”

He blinked, streaking a tear down his cheek. “Don’t you see? How can you not see?”

“See what?” She ran her hands around his ribs as if searching for a wound. “I don’t see anything.”

He seized her hand, holding it tight. Too tight. “
I
am that boy.”