The Adani Chronicles: Birthright

“Evin!” Brandt shouted from the floor, lurching to his feet. Ryn nocked an arrow as the Beast kicked the back of his knees out from under him and followed it with a blow to the back of the head that had the Prince curling forward, resting his head on his forearms as he struggled to remain conscious with a moan.

That was all it took for the younger of Signy’s sons. Evin leapt, covering the distance between his writhing brother and the monster that wore his face in a single bound, sword raised high. At that exact moment, a snarl sounded from the shadows, just behind the blur of lynx that pounced at the Beast, and Ryn held her arrow at bay to avoid hitting an ally. The Beast simply waved his hand, and both man and wild cat went flying in the opposite direction they’d intended. Kota skidded across the rough stone floor back into the darkness, making Ryn shudder, while Evin smacked hard enough into one of the pillars that it cracked beneath the force. The Prince’s head thumped into the mineral stone, and Ryn swallowed bile as she made her move. Her arrow flew straight and true, only to be plucked from thin air by the monster that wasn’t Brandt. He turned and grinned in her direction.

But Evin had pulled himself upright already, swaying a little from the blow to his head, shuddering against what Ryn knew was a horrifying headache.

“You will not touch him,” the prince repeated, just as dangerously as before.

“And you, clearly, will not touch me,” Not-Brandt laughed. “Sit down, Evin,” he waved a hand and Evin fell back against the pillar, his legs folding and rump hitting the ground none too gently. Ryn began to move, knowing it was important not to stay still long enough for the Beast to get a lock on her location. A quick glance into her magic told her Kota was fine; up and moving silently too, in the shadows across the circular room.

The Beast was still talking. “And let me tell you something your dear sweet brother has kept from you.”

“Stop,” Brandt murmured weakly from his place inside the circle, raising his head slowly. It clearly took a lot of effort, and Ryn winced in sympathy. Not-Brandt grinned at the bloodied prince before fixing his gaze on Evin, who stared back stubbornly.

“Did you know you were fathered by a monster, little brother?” Not-Brandt asked conversationally. Ryn shot again, this time from directly behind the creature, but he caught the arrow again, mere centimeters from the back of his skull.

He turned, that terrifying smile etched on his face although carven from stone. “Come now, pretty archer, come out to play.” Ryn found herself yanked forward by some invisible force, thrown through the air until she landed, skidding hard on her knees and looking up at Brandt’s face leering down at her. The Beast paused, lifted her with his magic so he could look her in the eye. Ryn thrashed in midair, struggling to get free and hoping to keep the creature’s attention on her, not Evin.

He could not find out like this.

“Let me go, you motherless swine,” she commanded, teeth bared. Not-Brandt laughed out loud, the sound very much like the Crown Prince’s own laugh, only less joyful and more cruel.

“Shall I?” he taunted, then stepped closer, moving his face to her neck and inhaling long and slow. Ryn choked on something like a whimper, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Instead, she snarled and kicked toward the creature’s shin only to find her leg completely unresponsive. She nearly panicked at that, squirming against the intrusion of the Beast’s nose near her vulnerable neck. After a long minute, Not-Brandt drew back, and the look on his face was neither teasing nor amused.

“Well,” he said thoughtfully, “you really are something else entirely, aren’t you, little one?”

“Let us go, or you’ll wish you never laid eyes on me,” Ryn threatened. She didn’t dare glance down at Evin, who she knew was struggling to rise, lest she direct the Beast’s attention to him. If he could just reach his sword...

Suddenly, Kota came out of nowhere, teeth and claws both bared, aiming for the creature’s throat. He never made it the whole way, but his claws raked the Beast’s shoulder, leaving deep gouges that bled black, and the attack drew enough of the creature’s attention that Ryn fell to the floor, knees buckling. Not stopping to think, she released her staff from its back sheath and struck Not-Brandt upside the head even as he threw Kota off entirely. Her lynx landed in the shadows with a thump and a whine, but Ryn knew he’d be back up again in mere moments. The Beast had barely been knocked off balance by her blow, but now he was angry. With a growl of rage, he raised a hand, slamming Ryn against a nearby pillar and holding her there. She snarled, squirming.

“I’ll come back to you in a moment,” he promised, turning his attention back to Evin, who’d managed to get his hands on his sword and came up swinging. Almost bored, the Beast sighed and threw him back with his magic again. From the corner, Brandt moaned in distress at the treatment of his little brother.

“As I was saying,” the Beast continued. “Pay attention, Evin. Your whore of a mother was kidnapped by the Val’gren just before you were conceived, did you know that?”

Evin just glared.

The creature sighed and waved a hand lazily. One of the blackest runes in the stone circle glowed bright for just a moment, and Brandt began choking in the center, bent over and spitting up blood. “There,” he smiled. “Answer.”

“Yes!” Evin shouted. “Stop it! Yes, I know that!”

Ryn pulled at her invisible bonds, knowing Brandt was going to need more than bandages if they hoped to get out of here alive.

Not-Brandt smiled. “Do you know what they did to her while they had her?”

“Quiet!” Ryn shouted. She didn’t even want to hear this, and it wasn’t her mother they were speaking of. All she knew was that if she had been made to suffer such a humiliating, horrifying torture, she’d not want it bandied about like a bad joke. Not-Brandt’s smile was making her stomach churn. She needed to stop this, and now...

There. Kota was nearby, and up. She willed him to attack the Beast, just once more, so she could get to him. She had her Y’rai knife; she would not miss this time.

As if he read her mind, Kota leapt out from the shadows, this time on the creature’s left, right beside Ryn. She gasped as the bonds holding her loosened, and in one smooth motion surged forward even as she drew the dagger. The blow made it home, the mountain-forged steel burying itself neatly in the Beast’s chest. The monster screamed his rage as his chosen form winked in and out of existence a couple of times, tossing Ryn aside like a leaf in the wind. She flew backward and hit the stone, then blackness descended.

“Ryn!” Evin shouted, though he didn’t slow his course. Taking advantage of the Beast’s injury, he drew his own hunting knife and threw it, aiming for the creature’s chest. The wild toss went low, and instead sunk hilt-deep in its belly. Evin didn’t stop to watch the result, just lurched toward his hurt brother, barely hesitating at the border of the rune circle until Brandt choked a warning.

“Don’t, Evin, no!” The elder’s eyes were fluttering as he tried to stay conscious, and he began fumbling for something in his left pocket. Evin went to his knees on the very edge of a purplish rune, hating desperately that he couldn’t reach Brandt. He was so close, if he could just touch him, pull him out of there…

“Brandt!” Evin called urgently. “Come toward me, brother, I can’t do this on my own. Come on!” Brandt’s breathing was all funny, shallow and too quick and wheezy, and Evin didn’t want to think about what that meant. His brother shook his head, his hair lank and sweaty, his hands shaking.

“I cannot,” Brandt confessed, heavy and pained like it hurt him to even breathe. “The runes…something holds me here. It’s like being stabbed with a thousand blades, Evin, I don’t know how to…” Shaking himself, Brandt seemed to gather his strength and whipped his right hand out. He shrieked in agony as he brought it back to his chest, but his goal was accomplished—a small stone on a golden chain bounced to the floor at Evin’s left knee. He looked down to see that Brandt had given him the Crest of the Vaeärne. The blue crystal was glowing as brightly as those evil runes, making the gold phoenix seem almost alive.

“Put it on,” Brandt coughed, spitting more blood. It speckled his white lips, and Evin stifled a sob. He couldn’t lose Brandt, it wasn’t an option. Still, he did as he was told, and his brother smiled for a moment, before his wide gaze fixed on something over Evin’s shoulder and he gasped. Evin turned, sword at the ready, but his blood froze in his veins and he doubted he’d have been able to use it anyway.

A tall figure loomed over them, strong and slender and red-eyed, Y’rai knife and his own hunting knife still buried in its torso, blood blooming black as night around the wounds, too slowly. But the face...it was Evin’s. Cruelly contorted, expression one of triumphant malice, but his own face nevertheless. Evin’s heart dropped into his stomach as he tried to stand. The Beast grabbed him by the collar and yanked him close, grinning.

“You are Râza’s son, Prince Evin, and it’s time for you to come into your own as his Heir.”

No.

Ryn woke to Kota pawing at her insistently, using a bit more claw than was strictly necessary, nipping her fingers and pushing at her. She sat up as quickly as she could, noticing two things immediately after confirming that her lynx was all right. First, Evin and the Beast—who now looked like him, which was just all kinds of strange—were locked in a strange sort of silent battle, staring each other down. Second, Brandt was about two minutes from dying. Her Sight told her he had suffered massive internal damage and was bleeding out into his own body.

By all that’s good and holy, no, please.

She grabbed her staff, which had fallen nearby, and threw herself toward the Crown Prince, yelping as the light from the runes touched her for only a moment. Ryn didn’t know how to fight the magic, so she did the only thing she could; she looped her elbows under the Prince’s armpits and pulled him toward the edge of the runes. It was like pulling him through sucking mud. The magic didn’t seem to want to let him go, and lances of agony kept stabbing through her nerves, but Ryn kept pulling. Finally, finally, she broke him free and laid him flat, ignoring the discomfiting fact that Evin and the Beast were still staring one another down, something around Evin’s neck glowing bright blue. Ryn shook the distraction out of her mind, readjusted her grip on her staff, and placed her free hand at the nape of Brandt’s neck. Kota trilled and nudged the Prince’s shoulder before assuming a guard stance. Reaching for her magic, Ryn kissed his head and got to work.

Râza’s son? Was such a thing possible? Mother had been kidnapped, he knew that much, but he had always assumed—since he was old enough to understand how these things worked—that she had conceived shortly after her return, probably as a celebratory reunion of his parents. It was in his name, even; Valevin, as it was in it’s completion, meant child of joy. Why would his mother call him so if he were the result of a…of a…

He could not name the crime, not even in his mind. It was too heinous, too terrifying to think about.

It could not be true. It could not.

He was his father’s son, Torin’s son, and Brandt’s brother. Where would he go, what would he do, who would he be without those?

No.

Evin’s denial, the pain and rage and fear, all swirled together into one massive emotion that made his head swim; it coalesced from an emotion into an intention, and Evin barely noticed the bright bluish light that began to emanate from outside the circle of runes, so focused was he on those red eyes before him. The amulet began to heat, searing the skin of his chest and lending its golden light to the Beast’s borrowed features.

Ryn was locked in a battle of her own, fighting for the life of Laendor’s Crown Prince, against time itself. At first she fought with her magic, trying to bring it under her control, but within seconds had given that up and simply let it flow. She found herself merely a vessel for the healing magic, drawing energy from the sparse underground life and giving to Brandt, coaxing his broken body back to wholeness. The strange plants in the room died within moments, and Ryn began stealing from the Beast, siphoning his nasty, dirty life force into his victim. Vaguely, she registered a sense of revulsion at that.

“Râza is coming for you, young one,” The Beast smiled.

Suddenly filled with a power Evin had never experienced before, he drove his sword mercilessly into the creature’s belly, then tilted the blade up and pierced its heart. Gold fire ran along the edge of his blade, and this time, the Beast choked, red eyes rolling back and then disappearing entirely as the monster reverted to its true form—an old man—before expiring on the stone floor.

“Let him come,” Evin spat.

The creature thumped to the cold stone, dead. Ryn gasped when his life magic, evil as it had been, winked out of existence.

And suddenly, there was death all around. The Beast was gone, dead, and the only life left in this barren place was that of the brothers, Kota, and her. Stealing from either of them was out of the question. A memory blasted its way to the forefront of her mind, as clear as the day she’d sat in the garden with Kenelm and learned to See.

“Can I give of my own energy to heal?”

Kenelm frowned. “You’re capable of that, yes, but it is not advisable. You could die.”

Without hesitation, Ryn gathered the magic, then pulled from her own red-and-silver aura, pouring her life force into Brandt; she could hear her own cry of agony, far away, primal fear taking over her brain, trying to make her stop stealing from the source of her own life, but she shoved it back.

Brandt. Brandt was what mattered.

She gasped; breathing was becoming difficult, and she couldn’t even tell if it was going to be enough, by the Astra it hurt....

Her heart thumped painfully in her chest, once, something cracked in her ears like thunder, and everything went black.