Shine: The Knowing Ones (41 page)

The men turned in alarm, glancing about and covering their ears. Soon the thunderous noise ceased—fluorescent light leaving Trin’s eyes. He glanced over his shoulder to the platoon leader. “Avalanche.”

The soldier stared, unable to speak, his shock broken only by the sound of approaching vehicles. He quickly nodded and took Trin’s hand. “I don’t know what to say,” he said, glancing back at his men who shared the same awed expression of gratitude.

Trin nodded once. “Take care of yourselves.”

The platoon leader shook Anvil’s hand, and both Keepers disappeared into the snowy pass right as the military vehicles rounded the bend.

CHAPTER FIFTY SIX

T
he young woman pulled Sam to the corner of the room. Nothing but a solid stone wall stood before them. The woman stopped in the corner, pressing her hand to the surface. A rumbling ensued. The wall trembled and cracked; fragmented pieces of stone chipping and drifting downward. Within seconds the wall crashed to the floor in a pile of mortar and debris at their feet. Sam squinted, holding a hand up to her eyes. As the dust cleared a dark, narrow stairwell came into view, feeding down through the inner structure of the castle wall.

Sam turned to the woman–stunned. She grabbed Sam, whispering a foreign command, pulling her inside. Once both women were through, she turned back, sealing the wall just as the large wooden door swung open across the room.

In pitch darkness they ambled down the dilapidated stairwell, groping at the icy stone walls for guidance and support. Sam placed each step carefully against each crumbling ledge—the narrow passageway unforgiving as claustrophobia set in. Sam edged in as close as she could to the young woman who seemed to know where she was going. The walls began to shake as a howl of anger ravaged the room above them.

“Faster!” Sam ordered. The young woman picked up speed. Met with another wall at the bottom, the young woman raised her hand again and the wall dissolved in front of them as moonlight and biting cold wind swept in through its opening.

“Пойдем со мной!” The young woman grabbed Sam’s hand, pulling her out into the cold. They trudged through the snow to a horse-drawn
carriage hidden at the side of the dilapidated castle. She motioned frantically for Sam to get in.

Sam obeyed.

The young woman got in on the other side and pulled at the reins. The horse took off through the cold down the narrow winding road. Sam peered out the small window. The crumbling castle loomed in dark malevolence at the edges of the sea, the water stretching out for an eternity. Sam turned with a shudder. With the horse in full gallop the ancient ruin was ultimately swallowed up by endless pines of the receding forest.

Sam glanced at the woman out of the corner of her eye, unable to count the number of questions she had with no way to get any answers. She cast her eyes to the back seat where several pieces of make-shift luggage bounced and shifted with the speed of the carriage over the snow covered, rocky path.

Sam drew a deep breath, trying to calm her harried mind. Something shifted in the trees up ahead. “Stop,” she said, throwing out a hand.

The woman slowed, pulling on the reins. The horse came to a stop as Sam watched movement up ahead, scanning the energy. Muted voices filtered through the twisted branches—men, approaching the path, pushing through the snow and cold. Human, and upon looking more closely—soldiers.

Sam froze, anxiety shooting up like flames. She watched them pass below—her anxiety turning to astonishment as the two men leading them came into view. “Trin,” she whispered.

The young woman gazed at Sam in wonder and then back to the men. Lowering her head, her eyes locked in on Anvil.

Stifling the desire to jump from the carriage and run to Trin, Sam waited, keeping close tabs on his energy. The last thing they needed was for more Veduny to show up. Sam turned to the young woman, gaging her reaction. The woman remained focused on Anvil.

Sam stared. Overcome with a need to know, she nearly voiced his name in an effort to illicit some sort of answer. Instead she heard her own name being called. Heaven sent, unmistakable. She sprang from the carriage, taking to the snowy ground, stumbling through the deep drifts of white.

Trin appeared in the distance, his massive frame all in black dashing up snow as he ran toward her—Anvil not two steps behind him.
Closing in, his body connected with hers, wrapping her in a fierce embrace, crushing her tiny frame to him. “Sam!” He pulled back, his hands encasing her face, raging blue eyes searching for signs of injury or ill-fated encounters of any kind. “You’re all right?” he begged.

Tears of relief streamed down her face. She nodded as he pulled her back into his arms, burying his face in her neck.

“How did you get out here? Why are you out here?” He begged questions, refusing to release her to receive answers. Behind them Anvil’s attention fell to the shadowy carriage in the trees. Staring at the driver, he moved toward her—stunned.

Trin raised his head. Sam followed, gazing at the woman as Anvil approached her. Anxiety, insecurity, and shame spun within her, dropping her gaze to the floor of the carriage as he approached. She would not meet his eyes.

He reached out to her. “Не бойтесь меня.”
Do not fear me...
His eyes filled with a soft command, stepping closer. “You ran from me in the village,” he said. The woman remained still, paralyzed.

Trin and Sam watched in unnerving silence, unable to hear their words. Anvil’s energy spiked in alarm as the muffled conversation continued and Trin began digging. Without warning, Anvil’s cloaking activated. Trin’s inclusion was blocked. He looked at Sam, taken aback. He turned in time to see the woman departing into the forest. Anvil made his way back to Trin and Sam. “We must get Samantha to safety. We are running out of time.”

Trin turned to Sam. “Who was that?”

Sam shrugged, shaking her head.

“You were just with her.”

“I don’t speak Russian.”

Trin scanned Anvil’s energy, but he was still cloaking. “Anvil,” he called. “Who was that? You know her?”

Anvil walked forward at a steady pace. “Ashbel does.”

“Hold up,” Trin replied, grabbing Anvil by the arm. “She knows Ashbel?” he demanded. “Why are you shielding against us?”

“I am not shielding against
you,”
he said. “We must get to safety, now.”

Trin and Sam glanced at each other, and then followed after Anvil in the bitter darkness.

CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN

I
n a ruined castle on the edge of an isolated polar lake a light shone in the darkness. One hour remained before midnight, the onset of the winter solstice. He worked with methodic efficiency, a master of the elements. Golden cuffs coated in the Oracle’s blood lay in a glass dish atop a small stone table.

The kindjal lay beside it, glinting erratically as clouds passed in front of the iridescent moon. His hollow eyes focused on the blood stained rings, energy surrounding them, intensifying. The metal softened, melting, losing continuity as the rust brown stains liquefied—separating from the gold.

The gold liquid pulled to the left, the blood to the right. He pulled heat from the gold, turning it solid again, a hapless lump of precious metal, the blood remaining wet. He held the dish over the kindjal, the blade glowing a sinister crimson.

Gazing upward he checked the position of the moon, then tilted the dish, pouring the blood over the menacing blade. Faded illumination glinted across the smooth gem surface. He looked again to the moon. Its energy quivered in temporary disturbance, then settled again into a smooth radiant white. Back to the blade, he watched its deep color return as the glow dissipated into nothing.

He lifted the kindjal with a tight grip of the handle, opening his other palm. He sliced the skin, blood oozing from the wound. He set the dagger down. Making a fist he began to squeeze, the blood dripping down onto the blade. Sizzling red gleamed from its surface
brighter than before. His eyes lifted, checking the moon, pulsating, shifting, its light waxing and waning, from waves of crimson to white.

He watched the eerie transformation, his fury increasing. It was wrong. He looked to his hand—eyes flashing with tainted electricity. The wound closed. He took the blade from the table, focusing on it. A flash of energy, and it vanished—returning to safekeeping. A roar of anger exploded in his throat as he hurled the dish into the massive lake. Clearing several hundred feet, it landed with a distant splash, the icy water swallowing it up, pulling it into the icy depths. He spun around—on course to recover the Oracle at any cost, his onyx eyes blazing with rage.

After only one step, he stopped. His gaze turned to the skies, breathing, reading. He turned. From the castle terrace in the snow below it penetrated his psyche—singing like heaven. He walked the length of the patio, staring, searching. With the lithe of a large cat he vaulted the side wall landing gracefully in the snow several feet below. His eyes gleamed.

He rose, moving through the grounds to a set of wheel tracks in the snow, heading north into the night covered forest. Squatting down, he traced the edge of the frozen indentation, with his fingertips following the trail with his midnight eyes. His keen senses tore through the energy, dissecting and decoding until he had covered every lingering molecule.

He stood. His eyes burning as embers, he abandoned his plan and vanished—in search of his new target.

Making their way through the darkened forest the wind had died down, the scant clouds clearing in favor of crisp, glittering stars.

They flew in the direction of the temple, desperate to escape the cold. Skilled in sustaining the harsh elements the men drew on their abilities to combat the temperature. But Sam could not maintain. Trin held her close, providing as much heat as he could from his own body to keep her warm.

When the temple finally came into view the small group hastened through the snowy landscape, climbing the steps to the top. Anvil
pulled the massive doors open and Trin guided Sam through. Anvil hurried in behind them, pushing the heavy door closed.

Dobrushin appeared in the hallway, astonished to see Sam. “What has happened?”

Anvil moved past him toward a massive meeting hall with Trin and Sam only a step behind him. Dobrushin followed, sending a message to the others.

They passed through a large archway into a grand open room. Trin walked Sam across the large hall, ornately carved stone flooring passing beneath their feet.

Anvil directed them to a sitting area of enchanting gold colored chairs, a soft material laced in an exquisite beaded pattern. “I must ask you some questions, Samantha,” he said.

The remaining Elders joined Dobrushin, entering the room, making their way to the two Keepers and their charge. Anvil stopped and turned to Sam, gesturing to the Sofa. She looked to Trin and took a seat. He sat beside her, taking her hand—stoic silence in his eyes.

Anvil sat across from her as the Elders gathered in behind him. “Samantha, where did you come upon the woman you were with?”

Sam glanced at Anvil. “She rescued me.”

Anvil stared. “You were in the sanctuary,” he said. “Rescued you how?”

Sam stared at the carved floor. “I don’t know how it happened,” she replied. “I had a vision in the wall of the sanctuary. Someone...submerged in water. This person somehow brought me into the vision.”

Trin glanced down at her. “Who?”

“I couldn’t see who it was,” she answered. “The water was dark. I think it was a man.”

“Let her finish,” Anvil said.

“This...person pulled me through a long tunnel of water that ended in a small alcove.” She looked at Trin. “I’m convinced it was the same person who was with me in the mine when I first got here here,” she said. “The energy was the same.”

Trin’s apprehension grew as Sam continued. “The voice directed me to a scroll hidden in the wall.”

“You sent it to me,” Trin said.

“Right, because Ashbel showed up and tried to take it from me.”

Trin’s eyes gleamed.

“The kindjal is in that cave,” Sam said. “It’s where the sealed symbol is.”

Anvil sat erect. “You’ve been to the sealed alcove?”

Sam gazed at the council. “Ashbel knows where it is. He teleports at will. That’s how he got the kindjal. I tried to do the same, but I couldn’t.” She looked at Trin. “I had to get you that scroll,” she said. “He wanted it, badly...or didn’t want us to have it. Sending it to you was all I could think to do and thankfully it worked.”

“Can you send us there?” Trin asked.

Sam shook her head in frustration. “I can’t send anyone anywhere,” she said. “He blocks me. I don’t know how he does it.”

Dobrushin stepped in. “There is a system of underwater caves that carve into the mountain at the great lake. It sounds like one of these caves must give passage to the mines,” he said, stunned. “That alcove was sealed, never to be accessible by anyone, including us.”

“The scroll,” Trin said. “A map to the alcove.”

“It doesn’t matter, Trin,” Sam said. “The tunnel was endless. I was underwater for at least ten minutes. The second this person took my hand...I didn’t need air somehow.”