Born of Fire

Though the priestess was probably thirty or more years older than Shahara, she held the look of a vibrant teen. Only a few wrinkles creased her kind face, and those marked the woman’s years of laughter and smiles.


No wonder Syn trusted her. It would be hard not to trust someone with such kind eyes.

Mother Anne’s sharp gaze fastened on her. “And whom have you brought with you?”

“Shahara,” she answered.

Mother Anne smiled a smile that lit up every corner of her face. “You are as beautiful as any angel. Never let anyone tell you differently.”

Turning back to Syn, she gave him a reproachful stare. “I wish you’d come under better circumstances. For years I’ve wanted to show you what we do with all the money you donate.”

Syn looked embarrassed. “I have no need to check on you, Mother. I knew you’d do good with it.”

Ushering them out of the alcove, she tucked her hands into her shimmering sleeves and led them the rest of the way down the hall back toward the temple. Syn opened the thick wooden doors that led to a wondrous courtyard.

Shahara stared at the quiet garden. Flowers bloomed everywhere with a bright colorful bounty that stunned her. Birds sang sweetly while chimes swayed in the wind, making a lilting sound that whispered serenity. Even Vik sat silently, sparkling on a branch, as he eyed them with a cocked head.

A fountain, with bubbling waves, marked the center of the yard and, just a few feet away, she saw a huge maze made of hedges that took up much of the left side of the garden.

Mother Anne led them toward it. “You know, Sheridan, we have just opened another home with your last donation, on Kildara this time. And we now have over three hundred homeless children living here in the Talia Wade Memorial Home.”

Shahara started at her words. Just how much money had he given to them that they could provide for so many?

Syn said nothing.

Mother Anne smiled at him. “Every night we have them offer a prayer for you, child.”

Syn shook his head and some strange emotion hovered in his eyes. “Not for me, Mother. My soul was lost a long time ago. Just have them pray for Talia.”

Mother Anne pursed her lips and Shahara could tell she longed to argue, but knew better. So they walked past the fountain and to the maze made of bright green shrubs.

“Anne?” an angry voice snapped.

Syn moved quickly and pulled Shahara behind a tall shrub. He placed a finger to his lips to warn her to silence.

“Yes, High Mother,” Mother Anne answered.

“Please send Omera to the infirmary. There is a patient there in need of her special talents.”

“Yes, High Mother. I will see to it right away.” Mother Anne stepped to their hiding place.

Syn shook his head. “I can’t believe she’s still alive.”

Mother Anne pursed her lips together. “Yes, and extreme old age hasn’t mellowed her in the least. If she catches you in our sanctuary this time, she will demand your blood.”

“I’m sure of that.” He looked at Shahara. “We need to get to the catacombs.”

Shahara gaped as a wave of apprehension went through her. She could just imagine a crypt of stacked bones and decaying bodies. “Catacombs? As in where dead people are buried, catacombs?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me a fierce tracer, a sworn seax no less, is scared of a little tomb. Good go . . .” He looked to Mother Anne and blushed. “Gracious,” he corrected himself. “Is there anything you’re not afraid of?”

“You for one,” she snapped. “And I’m not afraid of the tomb. I . . . just don’t want to go there.”

The look on his face told her his thoughts. Me or the Rits. Well, at the moment, she was definitely leaning toward the Rits.

Mother Anne smiled reassuringly. “You’ll be all right, child. Sheridan knows his way around them better than anyone.”

That was supposed to be comforting?

And she noticed that Syn didn’t correct the Mother from using his real name.

Very interesting . . .

Mother Anne stepped around Shahara and placed a gentle kiss on Syn’s forehead. “Walk with the gods, child. Remember they will always be with you.”

Syn nodded. “Thank you, Mother Anne. For everything.”

He motioned for Vik to follow them. Then, taking her by the hand, he led Shahara through the maze.

With every step they took through the winding, green bushes, apprehension swelled more and more in her chest.

“Syn . . . I really don’t like being around the dead. I’ve buried too many members of my family. I really don’t think I can do this.”

Syn paused just outside the marble entrance as he heard the note in her voice. He turned to her with a curse scalding his throat but, as he faced her, it died. Stark terror flickered in the golden depths brighter than the eternal flames that burned on either side of the catacomb’s door.

“Aren’t you afraid?” she asked, her voicing sounding much like a little girl’s.

He shook his head. “The dead won’t hurt you, Shahara. Only the living can do that.”