Successor Read online

  Leila is pale when I glance back at her, her parted lips trembling. We stop in front of the wall of trees while the bowman steps through an opening like a doorway. After an awkward minute of the group eyeing us and whispering to each other, he reemerges with two women and a man. Older with lines etching their faces, one of the women and the man look over me and Leila with interest. The third person, a thin woman with white hair, regards us with cool calculation. She exudes a calmness with a knowing air that naturally calls for acknowledgement. It’s clear she’s the one in charge.

  “This is the one?” A rich voice, her eyes on me. When the scarred man confirms, she looks me up and down, measuring. “Tell me how you arrived here, child.”

  “We were brought here—somehow.” A deep breath doesn’t help, and all I can do is shake my head at the absurdity of it. “This will probably sound crazy, but…I think it was the lightning.” I take an uneasy swallow and wait for her scoff.

  “An unusual method of travel.” She takes in my appearance again, studying me. “Judging by your clothing and your companion’s yellow hair, it is clear the two of you are strangers to these lands. Here, the punishment for trespassing is severe. As such, I suggest you consider your next words with care. Why have you come?”

  Stunned, my stomach knotting, I glance at Leila. She’s eyeing the crowd, making no sign she’s aware of the threat levied against us. My stomach twists harder.

  A different language. How is that possible?

  The woman is watching me when I turn back. A small whimper comes out when I try speaking, and I look to the bowman. His eyes lock on mine, an undisguised mixture of wariness and intrigue radiating from them. They hold the same intensity as they did by the lake, as if he’s trying to look straight into me.

  The uncomfortable lump in my throat makes my voice crack. “I—”

  “Evan!” Leila lets out an excited exhale.

  I pull my gaze from the living statue. “What?”

  “Your phone.” She tugs on my bag against my hip, where a purple glow shines out.

  “But I already checked.” I flip the flap back and peer inside, Leila’s head right next to mine.

  We freeze. The light isn’t coming from my phone.

  “Has it…done that before?” Lei pulls back, her eyes wide.

  With my eyes fixed on the glow, I reach in and withdraw the Sahasrara Orb. The glow fades from the portal, and the indicator floats to the surface.

  It is time.

  The same message as before. I frown. “How—?”

  An arrow strikes the ground next to my foot. Leila yelps, and my gaze snaps back to the statue. Another arrow is notched on his bow, ready for release.

  I shield the ball against my chest. “No, it’s okay! It’s a toy.” His gaze shifts to the ball, and I find it easier to speak. “You ask it questions and it gives answers. It’s harmless.”

  The old woman touches her fingertips to the bowman’s arm. He lowers the weapon, but the arrow remains notched. His gaze finds mine again, and I force myself to focus on the woman.

  “What sort of answers?” A tilt of her head, her expression curious.

  What does that have to do with anything?

  “They’re for yes and no questions. Simple, generic.” The knots in my stomach twist tighter, compelling me to add, “But this one…there’s something different about it.”

  “How so?”

  A scoff escapes my throat. “Well, for one thing, it’s not supposed to glow. I mean, some specialty ones might, but I’m pretty sure this is a regular one.” Her expression goes blank, and I clear my throat. “It’s supposed to give certain answers. They’re written on a die inside of it.”

  Her brows pull together. “And you have received different ones?”

  I nod. “One. I’ve seen it once before, and again now. It said, ‘It is time.’ I have no idea what it means.”

  The woman’s expression clears. She exchanges a look with the other elders before returning her attention to me. “Has anyone else witnessed these messages?”

  “The first time I was alone—” I look over my shoulder, and Lei’s uneasy gaze meets mine. “Did you see what the ball said when it stopped glowing?”

  “What?” Suppressed panic strains her voice. “What the hell does that matter?”

  “Just think, Lei.” She tenses at my tone and I widen my eyes, emphasizing my words. “What did the ball say when I took it out of my bag?”

  “Um…” She frowns a little and looks at the ball against my chest. “I think it said, ‘Better not tell you now.’ ”

  “You’re sure?”

  She nods, eyeing the elders and the bowman.

  They’re talking among themselves when I turn back, though the bowman’s piercing gaze is fixed on me. Despite my determination to avoid looking at him, my traitorous gaze insists on drifting his way, ratcheting up my pulse whenever it connects with his. I’m grateful when the elders’ attention returns to me and I’m forced to focus on them.

  “No one else has seen the messages,” I say to their expectant expressions.

  The old woman shifts the slightest bit. If it were anyone else, I’d think nothing of it; a simple tilt of the head, a straightening of the shoulders. But this holds authority and conveys challenge. No matter how this woman came to lead these people, I doubt holding her place came with much difficulty. Not when she has someone like the bowman at her disposal. He embodies the intense stillness of a predator stalking its prey, assessing its weaknesses and waiting for the most opportune moment to strike.

  “We would be interested to learn what other messages the device might provide,” the old woman says.

  Uncertainty makes my mouth open and close. “So you want me to…talk to it?”

  She lifts a brow. “Is that not what it is designed for?”

  The sheer absurdity of the request spurs an argument in my throat, but it stops when I open my mouth. How do you argue the rationale in an irrational situation? Refusal isn’t an option, not if Lei and I want to get out of this unscathed.

  Just accept and go from there.

  One of my dad’s favorite pieces of advice, like when I complain about the usefulness of calculus in the real world. It’s hard to imagine him saying it at a time like this. But what choice do I have?

  “Okay.” I can’t believe I’m doing this. “What do you want me to ask?”

  “Inquire about this place.” The old woman gestures to the circle. “About the people.”

  The stubborn lump in my throat is impossible to swallow around. Steeling myself against the very real possibility I might be sentencing Leila and myself to a short, painful future, I turn the ball over until its portal shows. The die remains submerged; waiting.

  “Where am I?” My pulse quickens as the indicator rises through the purple liquid.

  You are here.

  My stomach wrenches in a spike of panic. “That’s not what I meant.”

  Correct questions—the die rotates—correct answers.

  Irritation overrides the panic in my chest, and I stifle a groan.

  The eldest woman is watching me.

  “Guess I wasn’t specific enough.”

  She lifts a brow. And waits.

  Just accept and go from there.

  Determination settles in my chest like a rock, warm and pulsating against the cold pinch of doubt. “What is the name of this place?”

  For an endless moment, the die remains submerged. Panic starts to bubble. And then the message rises.

  Laraek.

  Déjà vu hits me, a virtual slap upside the head knocking something loose. I stare at the word in silence. It calls to me on some level, like something long forgotten pulling at the edge of my memory. I look up and repeat the ball’s answer.

  The woman nods, the corner of her mouth tugging up in a mixture of knowing and relief. “It is the name of this clan, and that of the lands within our territory.”

  Confusion overwhelms me. “I don’t understand. How can
it know that?” How can it know anything?

  “Maemon,” the elder man interrupts from where he stands next to the bowman, “this may be one of Taustin’s deceptions. Such knowledge would be obvious.”

  “And as such, we are here to eliminate that possibility,” the woman, Maemon, replies in her authoritative way. She returns her attention to me. “Perhaps you could satisfy a curiosity for me. What is the predecessor’s name?”

  I blink. “The predecessor?” She lifts a hand, gesturing to the ball, and I blow out a breath.

  Staying calm isn’t the easiest thing when all eyes are on me. Focusing on the toy, I ask Maemon’s question, figuring I’ll get told to be more specific. The toy takes its sweet time answering, and I hold my breath every moment of it.

  Until…Sianne.

  Alarm stiffens my back. “What the hell?”

  “Ev?” Leila touches my arm. That must’ve come out in English.

  The innocuous toy in my clenched hands has my pulse drumming an erratic beat. When I look up, I find a strange kind of expectancy in Maemon’s eyes. “The predecessor of what?”

  “What was its response?”

  As I search her eyes, imploring her for answers, she waits as if she hasn’t a care in the world.

  When I can’t remain silent any longer, my voice comes out low. “Sianne.”

  Fevered whispers break out among the crowd. The other two elders exchange quiet words, the bowman’s gaze more intense than ever. How that name is connected to this place, I have no idea. But somehow, it’s the answer they’re looking for.

  Maemon watches me, her gaze intent. “What does that name mean to you?”

  I swallow against the unease in my chest. “It was my mother’s name.”

  The whispers grow in volume and intensity, but I don’t hear anything being said. All noise turns to static as I search Maemon’s face for answers but find none.

  She consults with the other elders for a few moments. They nod, their anxious eyes on me. Maemon turns back and holds her hand up, quieting the crowd. “We require one more validation. To examine the device.”

  Stepping back, I pull the ball to my chest. “Why?”

  “To verify it is capable of doing what you claim.”

  “But it doesn’t show the messages to anyone else.”

  “Based upon your word.” Her gaze falls on the toy, and my grip on it tightens. “Unless you would prefer to be viewed as intentional trespassers?”

  As unpleasant as that alternative might be, I don’t want to hand over the toy. Either way, the elders will get their hands on it. In the end, my one choice is between doing this the easy way or the hard way.

  My stomach twists again, a bitter taste inching up the back of my throat.

  “Okay.”

  The statue comes to life, stepping forward to take the ball. Our gazes lock in the moments before I release it to him, his wariness clear in the set of his jaw. There’s something else, halfway hidden behind his strict movements and the distrustful distance he keeps between us. I consider it a small victory his bow isn’t aimed at me anymore.

  The moment my hand leaves the ball, a look of extraordinary pain flares in his eyes, and he drops to his knee. A strange tone sounds, like a ringing in my ears, and to my utter surprise everyone around me cries out. Disbelief and horror fill me as they cover their ears, their faces contorted into masks of pain. Leila screams my name, and instinct makes me snatch the ball from the bowman’s grip. The tone ceases and the people quiet.

  I lay my hand on Lei’s arm. “Are you okay?”

  “What the hell was that?”

  Unable to answer, I face the elders as the bowman straightens, looking stunned, almost incredulous. He makes no move to take the ball again, his gaze roving over me. He rubs his hand. No marks mar his skin, but there weren’t any on mine either when I’d been burned back in the barn.

  While the other two elders look taken aback, Maemon seems satisfied. Like the bowman, she makes no attempt to handle the ball.

  “In view of the night’s events, I believe reflection on the situation is necessary.” Her gaze moves over the crowd before landing on me. “You and your companion must be exhausted. You will be taken somewhere to rest.”

  With a nod from Maemon, the bowman steps forward. “Come.”

  We leave the elders and the light of the bonfire behind as we make our way down one of the paths leading from the center. We pass numerous clusters of banyan trees until we stop in front of a lone one, six feet in diameter by the looks of it. Like the wall of trees back in the center, there’s an opening between the tangled, vinelike sections of bark. The bowman stands beside it and motions for us to go in.

  Do they keep their prisoners here, in a tree with maybe enough room inside for someone to sit down? Knowing better than to ask, I take a breath and step into the darkness.

  The same scent tinges the inside of the tree as the alcove near the lake—fragrant, reminding me of a combination of lilacs and Honeycrisp apples. I shuffle forward as Leila follows me in, reaching my hands out so I don’t walk into the back side of the tree. After a few more steps, I touch something solid, but it isn’t a wall. Instead, I collide with a narrow edge at mid-thigh, throwing off my balance and forcing me to catch myself before pitching forward. A rough wood surface scrapes my palms, the raised fibers too soft to give me splinters. Leila bumps into my back with a startled curse, her hands flying to me to steady us both. A torch reveals the space around us a few seconds later. My jaw goes slack and Leila gasps.

  The interior of the tree is massive compared to the outside. The curving wall looks to be at least twenty feet in diameter. Garlands of dried flowers and leaves cover it, hanging from narrow crevices with thick, leafy vines climbing toward the sky. When I look to see how high they go, I’m surprised to find the chamber opens to the outside, the vines crawling over the edge about thirty feet up. The brilliant night sky shines down through the opening, a beauty beyond compare.

  As the torch comes farther into the hollow, I find I’m pressed against the rough edge of a round wood table, the surface lined with thick, concentric growth rings with three large candles at its center. I take in the rest of the space. Two beds hug the wall, covered in thin pelts with the table and a couple of chairs separating them. Fallen leaves and flowers line the ground along the wall, their sweet scent washing over me as the air stirs.

  Several people filter inside with dishes of food and containers of water. They place everything on the table, the man with the torch lighting the candles before leaving with the others. Soon only Leila, the bowman, and I are left.

  With his gaze trained on me, he steps to the table, tears a piece from a small loaf of bread, and eats it. Then he lifts the water pitcher and takes a drink. When he finishes, he returns to the entrance. “A sentry is posted outside should you need anything. For now, rest.”

  Then he’s gone.

  Leila and I gape at each other in disbelief before taking in the hollow again.

  “Normally I’d say this is impossible,” Leila remarks. She looks at me and shakes her head, her eyes wide. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say that again after tonight.”

  I must be in shock because all I can manage is a tired laugh. Thinking of the bowman sampling the food before he left, I say, “I guess the food isn’t poisoned.”

  “Evan, what is going on? What was that back there?”

  “They were testing me to make sure we’re not enemy spies—I think.”

  “Why would they think that? It’s pretty obvious we’re not from around here.” Her eyes narrow, assessing me. “I swear I didn’t understand a word anyone was saying. How did you?”

  I huff out a breath, just as confused. “I have no idea. All I hear is English.” The Sahasrara Orb is innocuous as I hold it up. “It has to be something to do with this. Somehow, it’s not a toy here. There’s some kind of connection with it to this place and these people.”

  “And you. I almost went deaf back there,
and you weren’t even fazed. What was that?”

  “I don’t know, but Maemon seemed happy about it.” She gives me a quizzical look, and I say, “The old woman. She’s in charge from what I can tell. She and the other two make up some sort of council.”

  Her brows twitch. “And Mr. Trigger-Happy? What’s his deal?”

  I shrug. “The muscle behind the brains?”

  “Well that muscle has a serious staring problem. He was watching you the entire time.”

  A small flutter moves through my stomach. I shrug again.

  Leila puts her hands on her hips and looks around. “How long are they going to hold us?”

  “Didn’t say.”

  She moves to the table and fingers through the food. “I heard you say your mom’s name. I almost didn’t catch it; you said it with a weird accent.”

  “Maemon wanted the name of the predecessor.”

  Lei picks up a piece of bread and sniffs it. “The predecessor of what?”

  “I asked, but she wouldn’t say. If it was my mom, then I need to find out what I can. I don’t think any of this is a coincidence.”

  “Look, I know you want answers. I do too with everything that’s happened, but I don’t know if it’s a good idea to trust these people. Maybe we should get out of here and find a road.”

  “We wouldn’t get far. There’s a guard outside.”

  She groans and drops to a chair. “Great. We’re prisoners now.” Her gaze settles on my bag. “I don’t suppose you having anything in there in case things get bad, like pepper spray?”

  “No.” I pull the contents out and set them on the table, holding up the purple lighter I keep in case of an emergency. “Just this.”

  “What’s that?” She points to a small white box next to the ball.

  “My dad gave it to me a few months ago.” I hand the box to her and she removes the lid.

  Inside is a small pendant of silver attached to a simple chain. Celtic in design, it’s made of a single line wrapping in, out, and over itself again in the shape of a triangle. According to my father, one of the tips represents music, another unity, and the other harmony. The knotting is a symbol for how those three things intertwine in a person. Given my love of music, I was touched by the thoughtfulness of the gift. Since I don’t wear jewelry, aside from a bracelet Lei gave me, I keep the pendant in my bag so I have a piece of my dad wherever I go.