The Siren's Call by CAV LASTER (classic novels .txt) 📕

No Happy Ending

A huge sigh escaped Prince Hezac’s lips, while leaning his back against the bark of the tree. He waited patiently to hear word from King Azuma’s messenger. The Vizcars’ lands no longer were safe, not even for him. Hezac had chosen the Kalic forest as a rendezvous point, hoping that the disclosure of their new hideout continued to remain concealed from their enemies.
He kept one hand on the hilt of his sword, while taking the risk of closing his eyes. His jaw ticked at the crunching sound of dried leaves, echoing in the night air under the footfalls of the two Wulacs that guarded him, Dayln and Krazin.
“With all the noise you are both making, I’m certain you’ll be an easy target for any Zadors in the proximity,” Hezac grumbled, staring them down.
The Wulacs paused for a second, before continuing to scout the area in a silent manner. Hezac inhaled deeply, mixed emotions clashing within him like the rolling waves of the sea against the shoreline. Where could she be?

He pleaded mentally.
Since his mate’s disappearance, Hezac never stopped the search to find her. Despite the passing of many months, he knew she was not dead, for his soul was still intact. However, without her laughter and her touch, each day that passed had him on the edge of losing control.
He could sense her suffering physically and emotionally, but their link was shattered due to the weakened state of her mind, leaving him oblivious of her whereabouts. He knew she wouldn’t have abandoned him and their daughter.
He could still taste the feel of her mouth and body against his. Her sweet laughter that caused his heart to swell and bring a smile to his face still lingered in his mind. Her scent of the Byrians-aromatic flowers she’d crush and make into perfumed oil-still filled their room, leaving him aching for her presence. He sometimes found himself at night pressing her clothing against his nose and inhaling deeply, shedding tears like a mere babe.
And now he was forced to be without his beloved. Lazria-their four year old daughter-was also compelled to live without her. It was heartbreaking to see his child waiting by the Adalia Lake, as though expecting her mother to show up in any moment.
The feeling of helplessness had the claws of his free hand sinking deep into the bark of the tree. His body shuddered, tears trickling down his cheeks. How did he allow this to happen? He was a prince of his own people with power beyond what many knew him capable of possessing. And here he stood, grieving for the loss of his contact with her. The need of the other half of him was great.
“Wakira,”

Hezac repeated her name in his mind, hoping to find some solace. Nevertheless, he felt worse as loneliness grew, eating him up inside.
“Prince Hezac, do you have need of me? I feel you’re distressed,”

King Azuma brushed his mind gently, fueling him with self control.
Hezac remained quiet as he regained composure, wiping the tears from his face with the back of his hand. He inhaled deeply, praying that Lemuria would give him strength to handle his ordeal. He sensed his men close by, and he didn’t want them seeing him this way. What kind of leader he’d be if he showed them he was weak? He was determined to keep his reputation as a headstrong and unbreakable leader.
However, there was only one person who knew how he suffered so.
“My king, there is no need. Many thanks for assisting me, you have brought me back from my grief,”

Hezac answered, knowing King Azuma heard him through their mental link.
He hated how telepathy wasn’t a gift his people had. Only two races of Lemuria had it, the Xaecons, King Azuma’s race, and the Taylins. But as a prince and leader of his people, he and the other two leaders without this gift could speak to the King when he contacted them through this means.
“Are you certain, my friend? I can come to you,”

added Azuma, his mental voice faltering.
“I’m certain, old friend. You, my liege, need your rest. Heal those wounds, our people need you.” I need you,

he added to himself. “Enough of contacting me, this will weaken you. Go back to sleep, I’ll be well.”

“Very well, if you insist. I need you too, my friend. Always remember that. You are my right hand, without you by my side, I’d be weak. My messenger brings grave news, I wanted to tell you personally, but―”
“I apologize for interfering, Prince Hezac, but our king would die if he continues this conversation,”

interjected a familiar male’s voice in his head.
“I agree, Prince Xarec. It was good you were there to silence him.”

Hezac smiled inwardly, knowing his King’s persistency always got him into trouble. He was grateful that the leader of the Taylins was there to command him to sleep for his own good. He wished he had that trick to ensure Lazria went to sleep when she needed. However, she was like him, stubborn to get things done her way.
“I placed him in a deep sleep. His messenger shall be there shortly. We shall convene a meeting at two-day times. I must leave to tend to our king’s wounds.”
“So be it. Pi cehi, Prince Xarec.”
“Pi cehi, Prince Hezac.”

Fury surged through his body as he remembered the first time his King received similar wounds. The Vessel Phasti, eluding her natural death through despicable measures tried to kill him outright. If it wasn’t for the fact he was waiting for his King outside the temple on Rishan Island, their king would be dead.
King Azuma and he became comrades during the Wulacs’ training process. Each stood their ground and graduated at the top of their class during the five training island facilities. They even found their mates on the same day. He would lay down his life to save Azuma’s, not because he was their king, but because there was no one better than him he could call a friend.
Now his friend suffered another attack from Phasti’s army. And where was he when their king was almost slaughtered? Sobbing while holding his wife’s pillow, he cursed inwardly at that reminder. He had become a pathetic creature since his life mate’s disappearance.
Now there was dire news which King Azuma needed him to know. He was anxious to learn about it. Maybe they discovered what those creatures that fought at Phasti’s side were. It was learnt that she had made experiments and created her own hybrid race, but where did they come from was still uncertain.
His heart skipped a beat at the idea that maybe they knew Wakira’s whereabouts. He paced before the tree, waiting for his men to arrive with the messenger.
Hezac growled low and hid among a few trees, covering his head with the hood of his royal blue cloak. He crouched low with a dagger in hand as the woods fell silent about the echoes of the various night creatures. He kept his gaze fixed ahead while he titled his head, heightening his hearing.
He watched how Dayln and Krazin stormed from hiding, the bright glow of their swords matching their blazing blue eyes. Hezac shook his head as the men paced and mumbled, trying to figure out where their prince had gone.
Hezac rolled his eyes as he flung a few rocks that toppled off their heads, making them growl in response.
“Silence, you idiots!” He scolded.
They inclined their heads, before hiding among the nearby trees themselves. Hezac jerked at a loud thump which resounded behind him. He turned to find the form of a Xaecon male slumped on the ground.
The Wulac groaned as he pushed himself up and stood. The young man tossed his silver cloak back while his black wings matching his hair, draped around his shoulders. The silvery glow of his eyes met Hezac’s blazing blue ones. The Xaecon’s breathing was labored while deep welts covered his body.
The man bowed as he stretched his hand, holding a metallic box. “Prince Hezac, I Rivtak, humble servant to our King, bring a message from him.”
Once Hezac took hold of the box, Rivtak collapsed on the ground.
“Men, gather Rivtak and see to his wounds,” commanded Hezac, scanning their surroundings in search for the ones responsible for Rivtak’s condition.
Sensing no danger, Hezac directed his attention to the box. “Mykra.”
The bird symbol on the object’s lid came to life and rose over it, flapping its wings while it looked upon Hezac.
“Who dares disturb Mykra?” a feminine voice sounded from it.
“It is I, Prince Hezac, son of Valip and the right hand to our King Azuma.”
“I see you speak the truth, prince of the Vizcars. Ask and it shall be given, Prince Hezac.”
“I need you to provide me with the last message King Azuma relayed to me.”
“As you wish.”
The other symbols on the four sides of the box detached themselves and encircled Hezac. The symbols of a dog, cat, snake and Moai circled faster and faster, creating a small holographic image of Azuma before him.
He swallowed hard at the sight of his friend and King in such a miserable state. Prince Xarec stood beside him, mumbling low a healing chant as he used the Lizram Crystal for Azuma’s deep gashes on his chest and back. Two females dressed in green held the King up in a sitting position, while patching his wounds with a powerful curative agent.
Azuma’s long, black hair mixed with brown, red and blond highlights was