The Omaja Stone Read online

  They fed and watered the horses by the mountain stream near the entrance to the cave. Yajna stood near Otto’s neck, stroking his sleek brown coat. The horse nuzzled his arm affectionately; Yajna fed him some berries and whispered to him in Nandalan. Then he got out his bow and caught a couple of large trout in the stream while Yavi built a fire. They roasted and ate the fish, then ducked inside the cave to soak in the steaming mineral pool, the hot water a welcome comfort to their aching, tired muscles. When they were warmed and dry, they rolled out their bedrolls inside the cave and stretched out to sleep.

  Yajna lay there in the dark thinking about Jiandra. “How many women have you bedded, brother?”

  “I don’t know. Many.”

  “Did you love all of them?”

  “No, but I did fall in love a couple of times.”

  “Tell me about Jiandra’s farm.”

  “It’s a beautiful stretch of land in the richest part of Villeleian farming country. Fertile soil, abundant crops, a large vegetable garden, and a fruit orchard. A creek runs through it, and they have a small pond. Jiandra and her brother till a vineyard and make wine. They have a two-story cottage and a large barn full of supplies. There is a cellar under the barn for wine storage.”

  “Did you sample their wine?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did it taste like?”

  “Dark black fruit and raspberries with yeast bread. It was delicious.”

  Yajna imagined that taste, along with her sweet, full lips. He rubbed a hand over his face. “I want to return to Villeleia as soon as we are able. We must formulate a plan for infiltrating the palace at Darpan.”

  “Agreed, brother. We will be successful. You’ll see her again soon.”

  #

  That evening Elio escorted Solange back to Kingston and returned home for a late supper. The mood in the Stovy cottage was tense after the afternoon’s confrontation with the soldiers. Shirali hardly said a word as she helped Gracie prepare the meal.

  After supper, Jiandra sat at her small desk in the sitting room catching up on books, bills, and receipts, calculating their projected income and loss over the winter, double checking that everything would be taken care of and everyone fed and clothed until the spring and summer fruits and vegetables started coming in.

  “That’s forty-two…no, thirty-two…drat!” She scowled and scribbled through her calculations. Her mind kept wandering to Yajna, worrying about whether he had made it to Nandala or not, and to Zehu, whose words of encouragement continued to echo as well.

  “Sister?” Rafe’s voice interrupted her thoughts. He stood behind her, his large green eyes filled with concern.

  “Yes, dear boy?”

  “I, um…I’m glad you’re home.”

  Jiandra smiled and held out her arm to him; he snuggled against her side, hugging her neck. “I missed you too, Rafe. You’re my little man.” She reached over to smooth his thick hair away from his brow.

  “I was scared you would get hurt while you were gone.”

  “No, sweetie. The stone protects me.” She lifted the pendant and placed the purplish-blue stone in the palm of his small hand. He gazed down at it in wonder.

  “What if someone steals it?”

  “Well,” she said, “someone did try to steal it. It burned their hand so badly they dropped it and it flew back to me. No one can take it from me.”

  “Oh.” Rafe seemed satisfied with her answer, but he reluctant to leave her side.

  “Sweet boy, don’t be scared. I won’t let anything bad happen to either you or me.” She smiled and kissed his soft cheek. “Go see if Gracie needs help cleaning up the kitchen.”

  “Yes, sister.”

  Jiandra returned to her ledgers while he headed for the kitchen.

  #

  Solange was determined to do something about the Nandals quickly. All the way back to Kingston, she had calculated her next move. Best to cut off the head of the beast, rather than nip at its heels. Best to bluster and bluff, and catch by surprise, than to reveal her weaknesses and fears by pleading and trying to reason.

  Upon arrival at the castle, she pressed her thumb into the runestone and snuck back inside through her father’s secret tunnel. She hurried to her quarters unseen and shed her peasant clothing to dress in a formal brocade gown of pale gray. Then, summoning her courage, she called for Cornwall and Nelson to meet her in her study. She gave them instructions while a messenger sent for Sir Cassimere Barkley to appear before the queen immediately.

  “Your Highness.” Sir Barkley bowed low as he entered the study, wearing a tailored blue velvet waistcoat, his gray hair slicked back into a queue. “What pressing matter could be keeping you up at this hour?”

  Solange sat in a high-backed chair with Cornwall and Nelson standing sentry on each side, arms folded across their chests. She met Barkley’s gaze calmly. “I wish to call an assembly of nobles to discuss the Nandal situation. As soon as it can be arranged.”

  Barkley looked surprised, then gave her a taut smile. “And if I may ask, what would Her Majesty like to discuss with the nobles concerning the Nandal situation? The Royal Council of Advisors does not need their approval to proceed with removing the Nandal filth from our land. That course of action has already been agreed upon, Your Highness.”

  “Not by me, it hasn’t.”

  Barkley raised a startled eyebrow. “You disagree, my Queen? Even though your would-be Nandal assassin escaped the castle dungeon last night with the help of two unknown infiltrators?”

  “Sir Barkley…” Solange sighed impatiently, rising to her feet and pacing to a position by the side of her desk. “I no longer believe this man to be of any threat to Villeleia or to my personal safety, for reasons I do not wish to disclose at present. I wish to gather more information from the nobles without yelling and bickering, and fully evaluate the situation before any further agreement is made as to what exactly we shall do with the Nandals. In the meantime, I have ordered the captain of the Kingston Guard to make sure the Nandal prisoners receive proper medical care, generous food and water, and appropriate shelter. Any lost children are to be reunited with their mothers as soon as possible. I visited the stockade here in Kingston this morning, and was appalled by the manner of treatment the prisoners were receiving. Furthermore,” she bit forcefully just as he opened his mouth to speak, “I would prefer that you did not refer to them as ‘Nandal filth’ in my presence again.”

  Sir Barkley blinked. His face reddened.

  “I see that I have upset you.” Call the beast out of hiding, she told herself. Reveal yourself, Barkley.

  “No, no, my queen, I…”

  “Take care that you avoid trying to persuade the nobles to your point of view before I have a chance to ask their opinions on the matter.”

  Sir Barkley let out an indignant laugh. “I would never do such a thing!”

  “Please understand that I am determined to be very cautious and compassionate about this decision. It’s a matter of life and death for the Nandals. They are human beings, Sir Barkley, not animals.”

  “I am aware of that.” His fists curled tightly as he visibly strove to keep his anger in check. “Just what do you accuse me of?”

  Solange’s heart pounded, but she refused to let her intimidation show. She had to maintain her bluff, keep the upper hand. “I do not care for your tone, Sir Barkley, nor your impertinent question. Rephrase it.”

  She felt Cornwall and Nelson tense beside her, ready to strike.

  A vein in Barkley’s forehead bulged. He obviously did not expect to be challenged by her. Her suspicions that he would try to undermine her authority if she ever disagreed with him were correct. She waited. If he didn’t back down now, she would have him arrested and removed as head of the Royal Council of Advisors.

  Silence. Nothing from the livid man.

  Solange raised her voice to address Cornwall and Nelson without taking her eyes off Sir Barkley’s face. “Guards, Sir Barkley is making us uncomfort
able. Would you please escort him out of the castle?”

  Barkley backed away a couple of steps, bowing stiffly. “That won’t be necessary, Your Highness. I can see myself out.”

  “Yes,” she asserted, “It will be necessary. The last time an angry Royal Council Advisor was left to roam this castle freely, my sister turned up dead.”

  Barkley was speechless.

  Cornwall and Nelson moved to grasp his arms and escort him swiftly out of the study. When the door was shut, Solange released a tense breath and pressed cold fingers to her heated cheeks. She strode to a narrow window and pushed it open for some air. She stared up at the sliver of a moon visible in the black velvety sky, wishing for Elio’s comforting arms around her.

  #

  Rafe opened the back door of the cottage and hauled the bucket of dirty dishwater outside. He carried it along the stone path, between the rows of shrubbery toward the herb garden where they grew basil, rosemary, thyme, oregano, marjoram, and sage. With the onset of autumn, the herbs were starting to go dormant, but Jiandra had him dump the dishwater on them year round for the extra water and nutrients.

  As he poured the water over the plants, something rustling in the peach trees just beyond the edge of the garden caught his attention. A breeze caressed his cheek as he turned to peer into the darkness, trying to see what was moving out there. It was shadowy and large, whatever it was.

  A huge vulture stepped out from among the trees. It shapeshifted into a tall, willowy woman with piercing blue eyes and long, straight black hair. Without a word, she raised her hands and shot a bolt of lightning at the thatched roof of the cottage, and it burst into flames.

  The tin bucket slipped from Rafe’s hand and landed with a clang on the stones. He turned to run.

  The woman shapeshifted back into the vulture and caught Rafe’s vest in her talons, jerking him from the ground. She flapped her enormous wings, lifting him high over the trees and fields, and soared into the night sky. Rafe screamed and kicked until a strange sleepiness came over him, and he fell limp in her grasp.

  #

  Gracie stormed into the sitting room, hysterical. “Jiandra!”

  Jiandra looked up from her desk.

  “Rafe was taken!” she shrieked. “I looked out the window and saw a bird carry him away!”

  Jiandra rose, too stunned to grasp what Gracie was saying. “A bird?”

  Gracie sobbed. “Huge, black—some kind of ugly vulture! It grabbed him and flew away!”

  Jiandra tore through the house and burst out the back door, scanning the garden. She saw the empty bucket lying on its side on the path and raced past it toward the fruit orchard.

  “Rafe! Rafe!”

  Elio came running from the barn. “Jiandra?”

  They both saw the flames on the roof of the cottage.

  Elio dashed into the house, shouting at the top of his lungs. “Everyone out! Shirali, Gracie! Grab the children!”

  Jiandra ran through the trees, searching frantically for Rafe. She found no sign of him and turned back to help Elio deal with the fire. On the way back along the garden path, something white sticking out of Rafe’s overturned pail caught her eye—a rolled-up scrap of parchment.

  She grabbed it up in shaking hands and unrolled it to read:

  If you want to see your precious little brother again, come to my manor in Caladia. Bring the stone. Come alone or he dies.

  Jiandra clutched at her chest, unable to breathe. She shut her eyes tight and screamed into the chilly night sky.

  “Rafe!”

  #

  Sir Barkley sent word to the captain of the Castle Guard to meet him at his manor at midnight. Tall, hulking Captain Hollweg entered the main hall. “Sir.” He bowed stiffly, his steely black eyes peering past his large, misshapen nose at Barkley.

  “Step into my study, Hollweg.”

  Hollweg’s armor clanked, his heavy boots scraping the stone floor as he followed Barkley into the tapestry-decorated room. Barkley slammed the wooden door shut. “Our little queen has overstepped her bounds.”

  Hollweg’s face registered no reaction.

  “Did she tell you she has changed her mind about ridding Villeleia of the Nandal pestilence?”

  “She only said she was stepping up their rations and summoning the county physicians to treat the injured and ill.”

  “She all but accused me of treason tonight. I won’t be ordered around by a fourteen-year-old girl!” Barkley slammed his fist onto his desk. “Hollweg, how loyal are the castle guards to her?”

  “Very, sir.”

  His answer stopped Barkley cold. He eyed Hollweg’s face. “And what about you?”

  “That all depends.”

  Barkley’s eyes narrowed. “On what, pray tell?”

  “On how much my loyalty is worth.” Hollweg grinned, revealing crooked teeth.

  “I see.” Barkley strode to his large mahogany desk, inserted a key in the bottom right drawer, and withdrew a bag of coins. He tossed it to Hollweg. “Here’s fifty crowns for a start. Keep an eye on Solange. I want to know who is filling her head with this self-righteous, bleeding-heart rubbish about the low-life Nandal infiltrators being worthy of Villeleian charity and mercy.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Rafe glared at the evil woman across the room as she assembled various items on a stone pedestal. He had woken with his hands and feet tied to a chair; the frightening bird was gone, and the slender, black-haired woman he’d seen in the garden was holding him captive in its place. He struggled and pulled against the ropes to no avail. Whatever happened, he made up his mind he wasn’t going to cry. It’s time to be a man now, he told himself firmly. Fight back.

  She stood behind her stone altar and opened the lid of an ornately carved wooden box, her cold blue eyes glittering malevolently. Tendrils of a foul, purplish-black smoke wafted up from the contents. Rafe’s pulse raced with fear as she lifted a jeweled dagger from the box and raised it high over her head, its curved, sharp blade glinting in the lamplight. The woman’s eyes rolled back in her head, her entire body trembling violently for a moment. She opened her eyes and fixed her bloodthirsty gaze on his face.

  “Who are you?” Rafe shouted, straining against the ropes. “What do you want?”

  The voice that came out of her mouth sounded freakish, like a woman and a demon speaking at the same time. “Silence, boy!”

  Rafe jerked hard against the ropes, his face hot with anger and panic. She stalked toward him and placed her booted foot between his knees, shoving the chair backward so that he tumbled back with it, hitting the back of his head painfully on the stone floor. He cried out, almost losing consciousness. The woman knelt beside him and used the dagger to cut his shirt open, exposing his chest. Rafe was too dazed to notice what was happening until the tip of the blade pierced his skin, and then he screamed.

  #

  Gerynwid held the tip of the knife still; a rivulet of the boy’s blood ran up to his collarbone and around his neck. Ujagar’s voice whispered incantations through her lips until the boy stopped screaming and slipped into a trance. Then she thrust the dagger into his chest, deftly carved his flesh, and pushed her hand inside the opening. She grasped the boy’s heart, withdrew her bloodied fist, then sealed over the wound with her other hand, whispering the spell that would leave him suspended in an undead state. While his heart continued to beat against her palm, she watched him for a few moments to be sure the spell had taken effect. Then she rose to her feet and placed the dripping, still-pumping organ on the altar, then stood over it, chanting the incantations to enter Ujagar’s presence. As his voice surged through her, she closed her eyes and entered his realm.

  She knelt before his throne while he grinned down at her gleefully, pleased with her work.

  “You have done well, handmaid.”

  “Lord Ujagar, shall I prepare the heart for you to consume?”

  “No. Use it to get the stone from his sister,” he replied. “With that stone, you can take what is
rightfully yours. You can finally rid yourself of the last of Felipe’s brood, thwart Zehuraster’s plans, and rule Villeleia as my queen.”

  She crawled closer to Ujagar’s legs, reaching out to caress his muscular calf. “We will rule together, my Lord. We will overthrow Zehuraster and free you to the physical realm. Yes!”

  Ujagar rested a hand on top of her head, his long, sharp fingernails grazing her scalp.

  #

  In a couple of hours the fire had burned the roof off the Stovy cottage and consumed everything inside its stone walls, and the flames died out. They had saved what they could of their belongings: a few quilts, Jiandra’s farm ledgers, a chest of coins from the storage under the stairs, their father’s sword from over the mantel, their mother’s soup pot and ladle from the kitchen. Gracie had grabbed Jiandra’s leather armor and boots on her way out and carried them safely to the barn.

  They had managed to contain the fire to the cottage only and not let it spread to the garden or trees beyond by tossing bucketfuls of water around the foundation. Now Gracie, Shirali, and the children huddled under blankets in the barn while Jiandra went behind some hay bales to dress in her armor. She strapped her dagger onto her thigh and saddled Elio’s horse Tiber. He was strong and fast, and would deliver Jiandra swiftly to her destination. She climbed onto his tall back.

  Elio peered up at her, holding Tiber still. “You’re absolutely certain the note is from Gerynwid the Shapeshifter?”

  “Yajna told me she’s been spying on me with her scrying fountain because wants the Omaja stone. She travels by air as a griffon vulture. The bird Gracie saw had to be her.”

  Elio raked a hand through his hair. “If that witch hurts you or Rafe, I’ll track her down and—”

  “No, Elio, stay here and protect Gracie and the others. The stone will protect me from physical harm, and I will get Rafe back.” Jiandra glanced over her shoulder at the smoldering ruins of their cottage. “You’ll have plenty to do figuring out some means of shelter while I’m gone.”