Diomere's Exile

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Heartbonded. Gregor scoured his memory for any mention of the word before he’d acquired the Arenatou gate scroll. Some of the scrolls about the A’mi were historical in nature, some were children’s tales warning what could happen if their powers were used for selfish reasons, but none spoke of a bond between hearts, of love. He shook his head. He’d never seen the term before.

Nadia and her sister knelt at the edge of the dock and tossed flowers into the water. She glanced over her shoulder. What thoughts lurked behind those beautiful eyes? Though tempted to move forward and badger both women for more information, he knew he’d only receive the sharp edge of Nadia’s tongue. He held her gaze, placed a hand over his heart, and bowed. She frowned, then turned back as her sister finished praying. Difficult, but worth it.

He needed to finish translating the scroll. Spinning on his heel, he returned to his carriage.

“Home, Mr. Martinos.”

His coachman snapped the reins, and Gregor watched the scenery fly past. Though he was sure he’d never read anything about the heartbonded before the scroll, he knew there had to be more out there. Arri seemed to think such a thing existed between him and Nadia, but wouldn’t they have to be A’mi? He pinched the bridge of his nose, unsure about anything.

The carriage slowed as the gate of his family’s two-story town estate appeared. The coachman guided the vehicle through tall, white pillars which stood sentinel against unwelcome guests, past towering hedges that grew in a thick fence of greenery, giving the estate absolute privacy. Sitting among colorful flowers like a kindly grandmother awaiting her guests, the home’s warm tan bricks and white cased windows welcomed him home. Gregor relaxed. Cyrene House, more than his family’s country estate, held his fondest memories of childhood. Memories of the puppy his father had presented to him and his brother, of the days spent lazing in the thick grass with the pup’s head on his chest, of the tree fort his father had helped the boys build, and his father’s proud smile when he’d told his father that he’d been made commander of Prince Stefan’s guard.

His frown dimmed. His mother wasn’t a part of any of those memories. It wasn’t until he was older that he learned she preferred the country because of the lovers she’d taken after giving his father the required heir and a spare.

The carriage slowed to a halt behind Prince Stefan’s carriage, members of the prince’s guard standing in front of the door, a familiar presence since Gregor had set up an office for the prince to use when he needed an escape from the palace.

Gregor stepped out of the carriage, nodded to the guard, and entered his home. Hagnon, his steward, bowed as he stepped through the door.

“Good morn, m’lord.” The steward lifted a tray with the morning’s news sheet and reports. “The prince is in his office. He said he’d take tea with you when you arrive.”

Gregor swept up the pile and gave the man a distracted glance. “Tell Stefan it’ll be served in my study, Hagnon.”

The older man nodded and turned toward the kitchens. Crossing the foyer to the wide staircase, he hurried up the carpeted stairs. They split half way up, and he continued toward the west wing, which housed his suite. Pushing through the door, he crossed his large sitting room brightly lit by the sun shining through floor-to-ceiling windows, and stopped at the door to his study. He pulled a chain from his tunic, then over his head and inserted the key into the door’s lock.

The door opened into a windowless room. He lit a lantern, its golden light bathing the books and scrolls organized neatly on the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, in a golden glow. In the center of the room sat a long table covered in the various reference books he was using to complete the gate scroll translation. Against the back wall sat a mahogany wood desk, his copy of the Arenatou gate scroll and his partial translation spread across it.

A knock sounded at the door as he sat behind the desk. “Come.”

His valet pushed the door open and carried the promised tea tray into the room, followed by Prince Stefan.

“Thank you, Jako.”

The servant nodded, set the tray on the table, and left, pulling the door closed behind him.

Stefan started pouring tea into two of the cups. “Good, I caught you before you got lost in your translations.”

“Just,” Gregor muttered. “My lady’s sister has dangled a carrot before me that is tied to the A’mi.”

Stefan narrowed a suspicious gaze on Gregor. “And the allure to the Lady Nadia deepens. Beautiful, deadly, mysterious, and somehow tied to the A’mi. Should she prove to also have brains, one would be tempted to think she was created with you specifically in mind.”

Gregor kept his face carefully neutral, unwilling to give his sarcastic friend any more ammunition with which to harass him.

“Are you finished?” Gregor asked, eyebrow lifted.

The other man shrugged. “Just pointing out the obvious.”

“She’s not Marla.”

Stefan nodded slowly, his frown telling Gregor his prince remained unconvinced as he finished his tea and stood. “Anyway, I’m headed back to the palace. You’re welcome to join me in the great hall for dinner.”

“As tempting as that sounds, I’m going to pass. I want to finish this translation tonight.”

Stefan grimaced and jabbed his hand toward Gregor. “I’d rather stick toothpicks under my fingernails, personally, but duty calls.”

Gregor nodded as the prince stalked out, muttering under his breath. Pulling the scroll toward him, he focused on the text which still needed translated.

The scroll held three paragraphs of text, the middle one being the longest. Pulling his desk lamp closer, he deciphered each foreign letter, wishing he could hear it spoken. Would it sound as beautiful as it appeared when written?

His mind jumped to Nadia. What would she think of his hobby? Diomere was one of the few places left in Saimond which passed down the story of the war between Saimond and Mondami as history rather than fairytale. Many of the scrolls he’d acquired had come from the island nation. Did their scholars still have the knowledge of the A’mi language? Would Nadia tell him if he asked? Would she even know?

Forcing his mind away from her, he burned through half the oil in his lamp translating the last lines of the scroll until he was finally able to sit back and read it in its entirety.

Of the same blood,

Each favoring a different element,

Are the sacred five;

The Gate Keepers,

Each haunting the dreams of their heartbonded.

~*~

To Arenatou gate belongs air.

The heartbonded pair must bond the gate

To pass through and return and see

Air must touch air together.

Blood, heartbond, gatebond, elements, gates.

When all five are linked

Fully opened the two worlds will be.

~*~

Spirit links all

When element touches element

As one.

Gregor read it again. Each haunting the dreams of their heartbonded. Unbidden the erotic dreams of Nadia flooded his mind, heating his blood. Did Nadia have A’mi blood? Is that why Arri had told him to look for references to the heartbonded? He remembered the feeling of being in Mer form in the dreams, his fish’s tail powering him through the water as he chased Nadia. The ease with which he’d breathed under water had been amazing, beyond anything he’d ever imagined.

He’d been drawn to the Mer since the day his father had acquired a painting done of the exotic creatures when he was a small child. Had his own fantasies painted his dreams of Nadia, or were the dreams more than mere dreams? He rubbed his forehead, unsure, and read the first stanza again.

This seemed to imply that the gate keepers were of the same family. He’d always assumed they were chosen from among the peoples of the kingdom housing the gate. He pushed up from the desk and searched through his book cases until he found the glass tube protecting the scroll he wanted. Pulling it from the glass, he unrolled it as he moved back to the desk. This scroll held knowledge of the five elements and their symbols. He skimmed until he came to the section he’d remembered.

Those of the same blood will typically share an affinity for one element, though in rare instances exceptions can exist.

So the Gate Keepers were a rare exception. He moved down to the symbols representing each element and compared them to those drawn on the pillars and beam which had decorated the edges of the scroll. The unbroken circle, which represented spirit, had been sketched into center of the top beam under the words Geto Inter Sokas, Door Between Worlds. On the left column were the symbols for air and fire. On the right column were earth and water.

He sat back and rubbed his tired eyes. But what did it all mean? Nadia appeared in his mind’s eye. What did any of it have to do with them and their tumultuous, almost relationship? He snorted. If you could call it a relationship.

Her body wanted him, of that he had no doubt. The heat of their kisses betrayed her efforts at remaining unaffected. However, she continued to push him away. All he could do was trust Arri, whom instinct told him he could trust despite the short time he’d known her. Nadia’s sister had turned out to be an invaluable ally.

Unbidden, their conversation from the day before surfaced. What did Nadia think to protect him from? He scoured his mind for all their past encounters for any clues as to what it could be. He had to have missed something important. There was her questionable relationship with the Shark and the uncertainty of exactly who the Shark was, the odd conversation about Prince Reis’ mother and her talk of being closer than ever to her nephew. The key to everything had to be finding her nephew, but who could he be?

Areisteo.

He paused. A name? Where had he heard it? When? The similarity to Reis’ name didn’t go unnoticed. It had been a woman’s voice, hoarse and low. Jasara? A slender hand reached for someone. Prince Reis? His head pounded, and he rubbed his brow. He knew in his gut he was on the right track, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember any more. Could the bastard prince know something? He considered heading to the palace, but decided not to interrupt the young prince’s evening. The morning would be soon enough.

Rubbing the back of his neck with cold fingers, he read the translated scroll again, scowling at its obscurity. Why couldn’t these things ever just say what they meant? And which element belonged to Thuno’s Gate? The part about a heartbonded pair bonding the gate sounded like rubbish written by a romantic. As if the key to controlling such powerful magic would be some type of soul match between two people who then had to consummate their mythical love under the gate’s arch.

Shaking his head, Gregor stood. He placed the original scroll into an empty glass tube, labeled it, and slipped it onto the shelf designated to Arenatou. As he snuffed out the lamps, he couldn’t help but wonder if that romantic rubbish was exactly what Arri had been talking about.