Lacey Thorn - Island Guardians 03 - Washed Away.doc

  JAWS ready.

  ISLAND GUARDIANS 03:

  Washed Away

  By

  Lacey Thorn

  Number of Warrior or warriors: 110

  Prologue

  In times past…

  Asme sat on the edge of the large bed, lost in thought. She remembered the words her mate Godar had spoken in her mind about where he and the warriors had come from, what they had survived. He spoke of how they had buried their women and female children. How most of the warriors had hardened with the task. He spoke of how their island had started dying as well, overcome by the disease that was plaguing their world. First the fresh island water had been contaminated and then the lush plant life had begun to fade. There was nothing these strong men could do but leave and search elsewhere for a new place to call home. A strong storm had landed them on the shores of the Isle of Altair, the only place they had seen untouched. That is how they had arrived and claimed this island for their new home. Then they had discovered that not only was there fresh water and a food supply but women as well. The warriors sought to rebuild not only their homes but their culture and way of life.

  All of the claimable women on her small island home of Altair now shared homes with their new mates. Asme felt sorrow, a tortured burning in her very soul, for what they all now faced. Now they would all suffer the same fate because one of her mates, the prince, had led his men and taken by force instead of speaking with the women and asking if they would share the bounty of their unblemished island home and allow the warriors to court them.

  The high priestess of the goddess’s temple had placed a curse on the Isle of Altair and all who now lived there because of his actions.

  “Then know this, Warrior. Because you take instead of seek, because you cause the goddess to weep. In this take heed my words to hear, for a time of reckoning soon will near. In five times five the Guardians will arise, five women marked by the goddess’s

  eyes. Of fire, earth, water and air, four will become the Guardians of Altair. The fifth shall ply the mystic realms and draw them together in the Valley of Elms. When the five are united in this mystic place, only then will the curse be lifted I place. Cursed to battle to hold what you take, this is the hand dealt you by fate. Warriors fierce with muscles and brawn shall pray for the day of the Guardians to dawn. For only through them will peace come at last. The Guardians united shall atone for your past. So protect and serve when once they appear, or be cursed to live forever in fear.”

  The prince of course had scoffed at the idea of a curse but the priestess had taken a dagger to her palm and dripped her blood on the altar before speaking the sacred words to begin their plight. “Marked with blood to seal the curse. You have sealed your own fate and that of all of your warriors, Prince. You will know no peace until they come. Remember my words and guard them well. For if one shall die all will be lost.”

  Asme had been given the task of making sure that all the women on Altair knew of the curse and made preparations for the coming of the Guardians of Altair. The high priestess had known that she could trust Asme to see this task done. After all, the high priestess was Asme’s mother. Asme would share in the fate of her people while her mother moved on to a different plane. Instead Asme would be joined as mate to the prince and his brother, making Asme a princess, a small fact that had sent the priestess into fits of laughter as she informed him that Asme was already a princess and didn’t need his help for that.

  The old priestess had not been playing with words when she had informed the prince that Asme was already a princess. Asme and her mother were the last of the direct descendents of the goddess’s bloodline. Asme was known to everyone on the Isle of Altair and they all knew she was the last of the line of Mahiki, Blood Princess, a title given only to the princess who was of the direct bloodline of the goddess herself. The title would end with her as the prophecy written in the goddess’s book stated. Now Asme finally understood why the line of Mahiki ended with her. There would be no more daughters born of the direct bloodline and thus the line would end.

  It had been one year since the mass claiming of the women by the warriors and Godar, her mate along with Prince Micah, had helped Asme to soften some of the blows of Warrior Law by incorporating certain aspects of the way things had been before. The men all joined the caste system of their mate and that way there was still a sense of normalcy for the women when they went about their day-to-day duties. At least the women were still allowed to dress in the caste colors they had each received when joining the goddess’s temple.

  Their caste tops cradled their breasts with two veils tied together around each woman’s neck then pulled apart to each cup a breast before being pulled around and tied together again at her back. The skirt consisted of black veils sewn together, attached to a hip-hugging band of lace. The veils then fell to the women’s ankles which were adorned with black sandals. Each woman’s top was in the color of her caste that she had been assigned to upon joining the temple. Those who saw to the temple fires wore red, those who took care of the temple grounds wore green, those who watched over the flowing waters of the temple wore blue, those who worked with the sick and the animals wore black and then there were others that wore white.

  Asme was a member of the healers. These women were trained in the art of healing the sick and wounded. They also were responsible for the upkeep and care of the animals, chief among these the shebana beasts, a brawny four-legged creature with long mane and tail that the warriors often rode. These women were recognized by their black veil tops, a reminder to all that they often held the decision of life and death in their hands.

  And they were in great need now as the curse took hold with a vengeance. More and more ships were sighted along the shores every day, each holding untold numbers of men who sought to claim the Isle of Altair for themselves. The prince had called his men to arms and led them to the shores to stop the invasion before it could begin. They fought valiantly, fighting to the death to protect not only what they had claimed but what they had come to love. And Prince Micah had gone to the shores with them,

  leaving Asme behind in the temple with Godar. He came to them when he was able but the protection of his people came first, something that Asme understood all too well.

  Their beginning had not started with love. No, Micah had claimed with hunger and rage, using her body but closing his heart. He had already lost a wife and three young daughters to disease and swore never to love again. Asme would have been happy to let it be that way if Godar hadn’t insisted on telling her of times before, of him and Micah as children and young men. He had given her a deeper insight into who her mate, the prince, was and how he had turned from a loving wonderful man into a ruthless one. Godar had opened her eyes to the good and made her love where she didn’t want to.

  Now she sat on the bed, her hand moving in slow circles over her belly that was just starting to round with the sons that lay inside. She knew they were boys just as clearly as if she already held them in her arms. She had conceived on Micah’s last visit to the temple three long months ago. She hoped that he would be returning to see her soon for she wished to share the news with him, hoping that with the birth of his sons part of his heart and soul would heal.

  “Your thoughts are deep, my love,” Godar spoke softly in her mind as he entered their sleeping room. “What troubles you?”

  Asme smiled up at him, her mighty warrior who only she was gifted to hear. For some reason he had been born unable to speak and had spent his entire life sentenced to silence. Until now. Until her. Only she was able to hear the words he spoke in his heart, the beauty of his
voice a welcome presence in her mind. A true sign from the Goddess of Altair that all was not lost, that this love was meant to be.

  “I think of Micah,” she whispered. “I wonder when he will come again.”

  “Soon, my love,” Godar replied. “Soon my brother will visit again and you can share with him the news of our sons.”

  “Yes,” Asme smiled, “I will share our news and hope to heal just a small part of him.”

  “Give him time,” Godar encouraged as he always did. “He must first admit his love for you, something which he refuses to see. Only then will he accept what is to be.”

  Asme knew that he spoke the truth. Micah loved her even though he refused to say the words or even acknowledge the emotion. She saw it in his eyes, in the tender way he loved her body now. He was still afraid though, afraid of losing her as he had lost the woman before. She understood that fear, understood his need to protect his heart by feigning distance. Soon, though, he would come to understand that there was no denying what the heart already knew. Change was in the air, a cry on the wind and Asme knew in her heart that things would only get worse on Altair before they could ever get better.

  Chapter One

  Willow slipped through the trees, drawing closer and closer to the soothing waters that burst over the island shore in waves. The drums of war seemed never-ending lately, a constant echo in the air. Willow finally reached her watching place and settled in to keep her own vigil against the invaders who overran their shores. It wasn’t long ‘til she felt the presence of boats in the waters just offshore. Willow smiled, anticipating the flow of water through her veins, a gift from the Goddess of Altair. Eager for what she knew she could do, what she must do for her people.

  She stepped from the trees, her long black hair falling to her waist in waves, the sides gathered back in a yellow sash. Just yesterday it had been bound tightly in a long thick braid that designated that she was as yet unclaimable. But today was the day that marked her twenty-first summer and her hair would be left unbound now with only the sides pulled back from her face with a yellow sash. The sash would remain until she was claimed, at which time her hair would never be bound again. Her green eyes flashed as she threw her hands over her head and called to the waters in the tongue of her mother’s people—in the tongue of the Goddess of Altair.

  “I call to the goddess, hear my plea. Let the waters flow through me. Fill me with thy icy cold, embrace me with warmth untold. Of salt or fresh, from earth or air, where water flows I am there. The goddess’s blessing on my call.” Willow threw her hands from her body and the waves broke from shore, surging back out from where they had come, carrying the boats of others far from shore. “A watery grave for one and all.”

  She turned to leave when her task was complete and was startled to see both Drago and Ulrik Mederra standing behind her, watching.

  “A Guardian as we suspected.” Drago nodded to his brother Ulrik.

  “We have waited patiently for you, Willow,” Ulrik told her. “You can no longer hide from us. We have already received permission to claim you and take you home with us.”

  “I cannot leave!” Willow shouted, angry to be trapped by these two large warriors. Willow was tall at five feet eight but the Mederras were giants at six feet ten of brawny muscle. They both had long, dark brown hair and soft green eyes the identical shade of hers. “The waters call to me and I must stay and listen.”

  “No,” Drago stated, shaking his head and stepping up to her. He quickly wrapped her in his arms, turning her so that her back rested against his chest, her wrists locked in his grasp, her arms forming an x across her chest beneath his. “Now is the time to listen to your mates and go with us.”

  “I have no mates,” Willow stated, hating that she could not use her powers against them, had never been able to, as she did against the other warriors who bothered her. But the Mederras had been waiting for this moment, for the yellow ribbon and what it represented.

  According to Warrior Law all women who had reached their twenty-first year were claimable. Any warrior who wanted to would be given a chance to claim the woman he wanted as long as his brother also wished to claim her. For warriors were always born as twins with the occasional arrival of triplets. Because of the vast number of warriors each group of warrior brothers, be they a duo or a trio, would only be allowed to mate with one woman. Once a woman was chosen she would be claimed by the placing of the mates’ clan upon her lower right abdomen just above her skirt.

  Ulrik kneeled at her feet and removed a cylindrical weapon from his belt. “You do now,” he told her as he placed it onto the flesh of her lower right abdomen and placed the symbol of the Mederra, a white tiger, on her. “Now you are Willow Mederra.”

  “Never,” she fired back at him. “So now I wear your mark. I am not a possession to control. I am a Guardian.”

  “You have left us no choice,” Drago told her, refusing to feel remorse for his and Ulrik’s following her and claiming her in the darkness of night. They wanted to claim her openly, had already spoken with her fathers and received their blessing and consent but Willow hid from them every chance she got. They should have headed home to their mother Erin and their fathers long ago but had stayed to wait for Willow to reach the age of claiming instead. Their baby sister Erika was mated to the Savaris now and had two children of her own that they had yet to even see. That would all change now that they had finally claimed the woman that they had both fallen so hard for. Since the first moment that they had seen her they had both felt drawn to her and as they had watched her, spoken with her, they had both learned that love was indeed possible.

  Willow was everything that a warrior could crave in a mate. She was strong and beautiful on the inside and the outside. They had sensed right away that there was something different about her and had not been surprised when they had followed her one night and seen her command the water with words and gestures. She spoke the tongue of their mother and something about her called to their souls, demanding that they claim her and take her to their home. She was their other half, the one woman who could and would complete them.

  “Come, Willow.” Drago tugged her hand and started back through the woods toward the tiny encampment that lay hidden just inside. “Tonight we claim you as mate.” He looked her in the eye so that she would not misunderstand that they meant to bed her. “Tomorrow we leave at daybreak.”

  “I will not go when you leave this place.” Willow tugged uselessly at Drago’s hold. “My place is here by the water’s edge where the call is strongest and my power is most useful.”

  “Once it was,” Ulrik told her as he reached for her other hand, brought it to his lips for a kiss and then held it tightly wrapped in his own. “From now on your place is with your mates. Trust in us, Willow. We will not disappoint you. We will not hurt you.”

  “You don’t understand,” Willow tried to explain to him, to them. She was not afraid of them, had fear of no one, it was only that she was determined in her course not to stray far from the water. She needed the water like she needed air. “I am a Guardian, the Guardian of Water. You don’t realize what that means but I have lived with it since I was thirteen. I am one with the water, linked to it in ways that are not possible for anyone else.”

  Drago smiled down at Willow. “We know all too well what it means to be a Guardian. You will find out soon enough what I mean by that when you meet our sister Erika. You will like her and find that you have much in common.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Willow demanded as they urged her through the small encampment to the place they had called home since first they had come here.

  “I mean that things will become clear to you if you just strive to listen and believe,” Drago tried to assure her.

  “Can you not feel the call in your blood?” Ulrik asked softly, leaning close to her to whisper in her ear so that no one else could hear. “Listen to the wind, Willow. Heed its call and trust in that if not in us.”

  “You
are making no sense,” Willow declared, ducking down to enter the low tent behind Drago. “Neither of you.” She refused to admit that she too had felt a change in the wind lately, as if something or someone was calling her. But how could these warriors know that? And how was it that they were so calm at her stating that she was a Guardian when it was well known that no warrior believed in the curse or in the foretold coming of the Island Guardians?

  “Hush,” Drago urged her softly, pulling her down onto the bedding with him. “We have other things to discuss at the moment.”

  Willow gulped as Ulrik latched the opening tight and joined them, lying on her other side. “Surely you don’t really intend to bed me here,” she inquired softly, glancing at the thin walls of the tent. “Everyone will hear and know what we are about.”

  “Yes, Willow, we will mate tonight so that there is no conflict in the morning when it comes time to leave,” Drago stated firmly, bending to her and placing soft kisses along her throat and jaw. Ulrik was doing the same on her other side.

  “Please.” Willow took a harsh breath, seeking to fill her lungs and clear her head. By the goddess, they felt like heaven and the things they were doing to her body were amazing. “Shouldn’t we wait for the blessing? For the joining ceremony?”

  “We will receive the blessing from your fathers in the morning before we leave. The ceremony will take place when we reach our village and my sister’s home. For tonight we will strengthen our claim with a mating.” Ulrik nipped at her earlobe when he finished speaking.

  “We will claim you tonight, Willow,” Drago said as he untied the blue veils from around her neck and slipped them down, exposing her lush breasts to their gazes. “That way there will be no doubting that you are truly the claimed mate of the Mederra brothers.”

  Ulrik skimmed down the side of her throat over her shoulder and down to her breast. With a groan he latched onto the swollen pink tip and sucked it greedily into his mouth.