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  Wind and Fire

  Gathering of the Storms Book One

  Volume One

  by

  T.J. Michaels

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Wind and Fire (Gathering of the Storms, #1)

  Dedication

  Introduction

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Preview ~ Gathering of the Storms, Volume Two Reckoning

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  Wind and Fire (Gathering of the Storms) ©

  Copyright 2003 – 2016 by T.J. Michaels

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  First edition published 2016 Bent West Books

  Edited by LM Editing

  Cover Art by Syneca of Original Syn

  ISBN: 9781533790163

  All books copyrighted to the author. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Dedication

  This book is, as always, dedicated to my kids. They have been super supportive from day one. This work is of special importance because it’s the one I wrote when they were little. I set it aside to raise them and establish my career, and it sat on the shelf for a long, loooong time. Now, I share with you what was truly the beginning of my journey as a writer.

  The world created for Gathering of the Storms is rich, full of family and love, power and deceit. Magick and mahem. So without further ado...

  Welcome to Draema!

  Introduction

  There is one truth: Once passion is awakened, it is as potent and lethal as any storm.

  ~~~~~~

  After the Breaking, many flocked from their devastated homelands to the new province of Draema to begin anew. The people who called themselves Gaian chose to walk a different path. Now, love and danger bring them together again.

  ~~~~~~

  As Blademaster and First Heir to Draema and its Seven Colonies, Rhia Greysomne wants nothing more than to live her life as she always has-on her own terms. But when she learns that her father, the High Counsel, has summoned a childhood friend from across the border to protect her against an unknown threat, she is more than a bit put out. And worse, a case of mistaken identity finds them facing each other with blades drawn.

  Who cares that he’s the one man who sets her blood on fire? So what if he's the fabled Wind Storm, Protector of the Realm of Gaia? As far as she's concerned, RuArk Miwatani is the spoiled boy she used to chase with her wooden practice blade after he'd yanked her braids as a child.

  RuArk of Clan Miwatani is well aware Rhia doesn't want his concern, his presence, and least of all, his protection. Sizzling attraction wars with pride and deadly circumstances. Will it bring them together... or drive her away?

  Whatever the cost, RuArk is determined to keep his word to Rhia’s father, and the Ancestors who’ve shown him that she is indeed, his. But can he convince her that he has much more to offer than his sword?

  Chapter One

  “Grandfather, if you must summon me from my pleasant dreams could you at least fashion a place more interesting?” RuArk grumbled softly into the darkness.

  The room was stark, dimly lit, and completely empty—no windows, no doors. RuArk leaned against a rough wall with one foot propped up behind him, arms crossed over his chest. He smiled at the image of his favorite relative—an Elder known to all their clan as the Grandfather.

  RuArk’s brow furrowed. The ethereal essence of the Grandfather’s body shifted and shimmered. Strange. It was as if he had difficulty staying with RuArk in a place where all was typically at the Elder’s command. The Dream was a place where one was not confined to the body; able to move through time and space without the inhibition of flesh and bone. There was nothing to fear, though things appeared vividly real. It was one of several places to seek wisdom and direction, or face your greatest challenges. As he gazed at the roiling image, he noted the deep frown marring the old man’s ancient features.

  When he finally spoke, the Grandfather’s urgent words formed as ice in the pit of RuArk’s stomach. Gifts, lost to all except the Gaian since the Breaking of the world, gave protection to the wielder. Those without were vulnerable in this place. If they lost their way, their physical body remained in a state of deep sleep until they either managed to escape or someone guided them out. Unseen forces ruled this realm, and not all were friendly.

  “The High Counsel of Draema sought us out in the Dream. Alone.”

  “Alone? Why would he do such a thing? He knows the risks better than anyone.”

  “He searched for your father to ask for your help,” said the Grandfather. “Thank gods it was I who found him as he wandered.”

  “But why didn’t he just come to me directly? I departed the High City not more than three days past. Negotiations were completed, and I am now on my way home.”

  “Not any longer. You must return to the High City. This danger is focused on his daughter.”

  The coldness in RuArk’s gut transformed into a ‘berg, though it should be no surprise to learn that that particular female—Rhia Greysomne—was in trouble. He hadn’t seen her while he’d been in the High City this time. In fact, he hadn’t seen her on any of his journeys to Draema Proper over the years. Though he hadn’t sought her out, he’d made it a point to know what she was about. Surely he would have heard of any threat to her?

  RuArk tensed and pushed away from the wall. “Focused on Rhia? By who?”

  “The High Counsel believes one of his own is responsible. He is wise enough to accept that he needs someone outside of his own province. Now, I have told you all I can. You will have to find the rest of your answers in the Seeking, and quickly.”

  The urgent energy that rolled off the Elder’s image spiked.

  “What aren’t you telling me, Elder?”

  The Grandfather usually epitomized calm, but not today. His anger-infused growl was cut off with a thick, veil-like silence as he took an uncharacteristic moment to gather himself.

  Not good.

  Finally, he ground out, “There is a taint, a strange darkness in the Other Realms. When the Realmwalkers first noticed, it was quite subtle. Now it seems to have found a focus. It
grows bolder, and nearer to the High Counsel’s daughter. If you are not in the appointed place at the appointed time, the bringer of this taint will prevail.”

  “Prevail over what, Grandfather? Over who?”

  “I cannot say. It is no longer safe here, even for our kind. But know that I have faith in you, akicita. As such, your Gift of Vision will not fail you.”

  RuArk’s head tilted a hard left.

  Gift of Vision? What Gift of Vision?

  The ability to enter the Dream or go on a Seeking quest didn’t count as a Gift considering any Gaian could do it. But the Gift of Vision? That was something different. In fact, RuArk had never manifested such a Gift, or any Gift for that matter. While some of his kin had been late bloomers in this regard, RuArk’s bud had been on the tree so long, surely it had dried up and fallen off by now. He opened his mouth to ask.

  With a warm smile and twinkling dark eyes that crinkled at the corners, the shifting misty presence of the Grandfather shattered before snapping whole once again.

  “Go. I will get word to the High Counsel to expect your return to the High City. I will guard over Rhia as best I can until you arrive.”

  The Elder’s shimmering image lost the battle of holding its form and winked out just as RuArk was tossed headlong out of the Dream and slammed back into his own body.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Rama Collaidh sat in his official offices. His fingertips itched to roam over the smooth desktop, to trace the rare veins of gray and silver threaded throughout the polished, white stone. At well past midnight, the window coverings were locked down tight. The dimmed iozene lamp over his workspace gave off the only light in the room. He liked the darkness. It offered a sense of comfort, sitting there surrounded by shadows.

  Carefully laid plans were turned sideways and upside down in his mind as he examined them for any holes. Many of his fellow Council members considered him an ambitious, middle-aged nuisance. He could care less what his peers thought. He was in the prime of his life; wily and determined enough to achieve the impossible. And he had the High Counsel’s ear.

  Yes, his board was set and the pieces were finally moving. Just as he noted a possible strategic problem, gooseflesh plumped just under the surface of his skin from scalp to fingertips. Sweat beaded between his shoulder blades before slipping coldly down his spine. In spite of the urge to shudder, Collaidh forced his stylus to move smoothly over the viewer embedded in the top of his desk.

  He didn’t bother to turn toward the source of his discomfort. There was only one person, one thing that could make him break out in a cold sweat, that could enter his offices unseen. How long had the creature been standing there watching? Collaidh quickly dismissed the concern. His determination to have what he wanted was stronger than fear or foe.

  “So, you’ve finally come,” Collaidh muttered.

  The words hung in the gloom for what seemed like eons.

  “You summoned me, did you not?” The tone was flat, uncaring, and alarmingly similar to his own.

  “Have you succeeded in reaching Rhia Greysomne?” Collaidh asked coldly.

  Now the deep, silky voice took on a harsh edge of impatience. “Someone is protecting her, warding her while she sleeps. I cannot summon her into the Dream at all. Yet, before the warding began...”

  “Get to the point, Behn. And step out where I can see you, damn it.”

  Collaidh forced himself to look directly into the white eyes of the thing’s too-pale face. The only true color on the creature was its clothing. Even the thick, billowing tresses of his long hair were white as full moonlight. Everything about him was unnatural. Yet for all that, how did he manage to be so bloody handsome?

  Once he was fully into what little light there was, Behn smiled.

  The grin chilled the blood. Collaidh’s lip curled at the sight of gleaming, elongated incisors—longer than any normal man’s. And slightly yellowed.

  Must be from endless cycles of feeding.

  The thought, both disgusting and terrifying, turned Collaidh’s stomach.

  Yes, Behn spoke with sophisticated diction, but he was far from civilized. And only a fool would forget it.

  “When asleep,” Behn said, “a person without the Gifts is vulnerable once inside the Dream. Strangely, Rhia does not have this vulnerability. The most I could do was deliver the most fantastic nightmares. I believe I was slowly wearing her down, though I could not directly manipulate her.”

  “You think she’s Gifted? That’s impossible!” Collaidh shot to his feet, slammed his palm against the sturdy desk hard enough to sting. “Her father is the High Counsel. The man is Draeman, through and through.”

  “Yes, but Rhia is half-Gaian, is she not? Perhaps the mother has passed on a Gift?” Behn insisted calmly.

  Collaidh frowned. Hell. He hadn’t thought of that. Hadn’t anticipated any of these delays. But he had to keep the upper hand. Behn had proven to be keenly intelligent, single-minded and ruthlessly ambitious—a creature that would take advantage of any perceived weakness. No one could ever know he’d enlisted the aid of a creature that shouldn’t exist—one that had rediscovered how to manipulate magick long lost...

  But then, who would believe it? After all, this was Draema Province. Science ruled all.

  With a smile that felt venomous even to himself, Collaidh pushed the thoughts away, deciding to force his point with his unwelcome, but much needed visitor.

  “Look, the only people with Gifts are Gaian. Rhia’s mother was, and remains, the only Gaian woman to marry outside her province for too many cycles to count. The woman is long dead, and certainly not around to teach her daughter about Gaia, Gifts, or anything else. And we all know the High Counsel hasn’t tried in the least to teach Rhia about her mother’s people since the girl was eight years old. Perhaps you’re simply not capable of getting the job done.”

  “Careful, old man.”

  Behn’s feral growl sent Collaidh’s heart into a stutter, but he was unwilling to give any ground. Collaidh ground his back teeth. This was his show to run, damn it. No way would he allow Behn to take control. He painted his face with a calm façade and refused to look away from those piercing, ice-white eyes that seemed to bore right through his forehead.

  “I said forget the High Counsel, Behn. We need that woman. We need Rhia, period.” Settling back again into the plush cushions of his chair, Collaidh turned and unlocked a small drawer. “Perhaps this will help,” he said as he held out a small amber vial filled with a milky looking fluid.

  Collaidh steeled himself as perfectly manicured, long, semi-translucent fingers reached toward him. Little blue veins made various patterns underneath the smooth white skin. It made Collaidh’s skin crawl when the lukewarm fingers touched his palm to retrieve the vial.

  “What is this?” Behn asked.

  “Don’t worry about what it is. I called in a favor from a friend in the Society of Physicians. It won’t harm her. Since the Dream business is no longer an option, you’ll need to be more direct. This will make Rhia a bit more cooperative.”

  “Fine. I will deliver it to someone who can get close to her. It must be done discretely if we are to avoid suspicion.”

  “I agree. You can’t be seen here,” Collaidh sniffed.

  “If there is one thing I am good at, it is concealing myself from friends and enemies alike. And if I choose to be seen, I will simply be mistaken for my brother, would I not?”

  The sneer in Behn’s voice was unmistakable. Collaidh grimaced at the bitterness in those words. Was it justified? Definitely. But he couldn’t afford to be moved by it? Not now. Not ever.

  “Perhaps,” Collaidh responded, but didn’t think it possible that Behn would ever be mistaken for his brother, Bryan—a man who looked fully human, while it was obvious that Behn was... not. “But don’t take any chances. I don’t want anyone to become aware of your presence here. Besides, those teeth and eyes of yours would give you away for sure. You’d be shot on sight. What good would you be to m
e then? Unfortunately, we need each other so let’s make the best of it, shall we?”

  “You promised to give Rhia to me. You will keep your promise, old man.”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” Collaidh said, waving his hand dismissively. “I said you could have her once she’s served my purpose. Now leave me alone. I have work to do.”

  Collaidh turned his back and ignored the wave of cool anger emanating from behind him. He didn’t hear Behn leave, but was vastly relieved when the little hairs on the back of his neck finally stopped dancing.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Sara rose and donned a warm, fluffy robe. She crossed the dark room to turn up the delicate-looking iozene sconces mounted on the walls. As she reached out her hand to adjust the brightness, her skin went cold. She was no longer alone. He was here. She expected no greeting and received none. He didn’t care for niceties, only obedience.

  “You will put this in the First Heir’s teapot this morning. Do you understand?”

  “I understand.” Sara replied softly, her head tilted down in a genuinely terrified posture. “But her companion brings her breakfast in the mornings. How am I supposed to do this?” she asked with a shaky whisper.

  “You will find a way, Sara.”

  She nodded quickly as he gave instruction and pressed a small glass vial into the center of her sweaty palm.

  “Do you want to know what it is, sweet Sara?”

  “N-No, sir. No, I don’t.” Sara clutched the vial firmly against her breast. Knowing too much simply wasn’t a good thing with this man. He moved closer, his long, dark coat swished against her bare ankles as he shifted behind her. His breath was both warm and cool against the nape of her neck. Darkness radiated from him.

  She shivered uncontrollably.

  “Good girl, Sara. Very good indeed.” He crooned against her skin as his fingers skimmed lightly over her shoulders. Her mind said she should run screaming from this creature, but her body wanted him—wanted to feel the thick mass of snow-white hair slide over her body. To feel sharp canines scrape against her shoulder as he took her roughly. Her sex warmed and softened in need of the thick erection pressed against her backside. Ashamed, Sara closed her eyes against her physical reaction to such an unnatural man. When she opened them again, she was back in bed.