Lies & Rumors: Tales of the Rikashi

By Calliope Parrish

Can two traumatized Rikashi, with a prophecy to figure out and a madman still on the loose, help each other heal?

Theodren is still recovering from his capture and torture by Maedhros, but an urgent message from his mentor has him flying to England. Calidan has trained Rikashi for centuries, with his dying breath he hands Theodren a pendant which sparks a vision. Twelve faces, and a mansion and only his mentors final three words. Jewel. Duty. Protect.

Gem has spent her life terrorized by her father, Maedhros, and sister, Corilla. They turned her into their house slave. She spent her life hidden, but after hearing someone stand up to them, no matter the consequences, knows she has to get out before they kill her. Then she sees a vision with the message, "It is time, come" which leaves her knowing where she needs to go.

Can they figure out the meaning of the vision and prophecy? Can they finally stop Madheros' campaign of terror?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Calliope Parrish
• Release date: Nov 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223833734

Calliope Parrish

Calliope Parrish is the joint name that Antonia Tiranth & Delilah K. Stephans. After both spent a lifetime writing separately, they joined forces to create new worlds and interesting situations to intrance readers. Antonia works in the medical field in the Baltimore, MD area and is married to a Parrish. Delilah has a degree in Graphic Design and Glass art and works from home in Mobile, AL and was born a Parrish.

Book preview

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locals are entirely coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced stored in or introduced to a retrieval system, transmitte, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior approval of the copyright holder.

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Copyright © 2023 by Calliope Parrish

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Contents

1. Gem Valarin Tinuviel

2. Theodren Dinandal Gwindor

3. Gem Valarin Tinuviel

4. Theodren Dinandal Gwindor

5. Gem Valarin Tinuviel

6. Theodren Dinandal Gwindor

7. Gem Valarin Tinuviel

8. Theodren Dinandal Gwindor

9. Gem Valarin Tinuviel

10. Theodren Dinandal Gwindor

11. Gem Valarin Tinuviel

12. Theodren Dinandal Gwindor

13. Gem Valarin Tinuviel

14. Theodren Dinandal Gwindor

15. Gem Valarin Tinuviel

16. Theodren Dinandal Gwindor

17. Gem Valarin Tinuviel

18. Theodren Dinandal Gwindor

19. Gem Valarin Tinuviel

20. Theodren Dinandal Gwindor

21. Gem Valarin Tinuviel

22. Theodren Dinandal Gwindor

23. Gem Valarin Tinuviel

24. Theodren Dinandal Tinuviel

25. Gem Valarin Tinuviel

26. Theodren Dinandal Gwindor

27. Gem Valarin Tinuviel

28. Theodren Dinandal Gwindor

29. Gem Valarin Tinuviel

30. Theodren Dinandal Gwindor

31. Gem Valarin Tinuviel

32. Theodren Dinandal Gwindor

33. Gem Valarin Tinuviel

34. Theodren Dinandal Tinuviel

About Author

. Chapter

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Ionly wanted to touch it, to hold it for a moment. What had gotten into me? Why did I take it out of the crate the other three were in? He’d been furious when the woman he’d captured took one of them. I was so stupid to even touch it, much less pick it up and bring it to this half of the basement.

What was he going to do to me when he found out what I’d done? There was no stopping me. While he was chasing the girl, after months of listening to the song from the dragon eggs, it had become too hard to push away the compulsion growing with in me. I had to see it, touch it, feel its smooth surface. Now I sat huddled behind the staircase, cradling the egg and imagining what sort of tortures he’d heap on me when he got back and discovered what I’d done.

They seemed preoccupied with Corilla, who was sobbing pitifully. She certainly knew how to put on a show of being pitiful. No one could speak harshly to Corilla, make her cry and Maedhros became especially cruel.

The egg in my arms swirled with shades of gray from the lightest to almost black, as if someone had held it in the smoke of a candle. What should I do now? If Maedhros found out it was missing… cold sweat broke out along my spine as I imagined the million horrid things he might do if he found me.

Corilla’s sobbing abated. What was happening? I didn’t have long to wonder when Corilla’s voice sharply and painfully invaded my mind.

Don’t let them find you, you idiot. We will come back for you.

Yes, Corilla, I replied. I’d be in even more trouble if the intruders found me than I already was for simply hiding the egg. Maedhros might even reward me for hiding it for those who might take it from him. Perhaps he’d give me a new pillow or a blanket, maybe a new dress would be enough for me.

The floorboards above creaked. Some intruders were leaving, but others were staying.

I sucked in a breath, holding the egg closer as the basement door opened.

Tentatively, I reached for the minds of the approaching Rikashi, praying they weren’t any Tasartir. All of them were Elessar and were unaware when I slipped the suggestion into their minds, which made them overlook my hiding spot.

I crouched down, making myself as small as possible, fearing they would throw off my suggestion, find me and the egg and capture me. Would they be kind or worse than Maedhros? I ducked my head, loose strands of dark cherry-red falling forward to hide my face and shield the egg from them. I didn’t dare so much as breathe until they had returned up the stairs, and their footsteps moved toward the front door. Only when I felt them moving further and further from the house did I sigh in relief, make my way from under the stairs to stand and look at the egg in my arms.

Now what? Will Maedhros believe his goons overlooked you? Or do you think he would believe I had a premonition. I hadn’t, but as I ran a hand over the smooth surface, maybe he would believe it? I was already a freak in his estimation, what was one more freakish ability?

The dragon song from the egg became louder. The warmed under my palm and the soft tap of the hatchling trying to break out of the shell seemed like gunshots in the quiet basement. What had I done and how? A whine escaped my throat, and I paced. He’d know. He always knows. There’s no way to hide this. Once he found the dragon, he’d kill me.

He had left me here, but they would return. I was still useful to him, at least as a servant, despite his disgust for me. Of course, I didn’t blame him. How could anyone not feel that way about a freak? And wasn’t that what I was? A freak? As Corilla endlessly delighted in reminding me.

When Maedhros came back, I was worried about what would happen. I was so focused on worrying about what would happen when Maedhros came back, I didn’t notice the change in the egg until I heard the splintering of the shell. I looked down at the egg and let out a gasp. A long crack had appeared on its surface.

Oh, no! No, no, no. Don’t hatch. Please don’t hatch! Panic rose, speeding my heart and breath. Gem, you’re such an idiot. What did you think would happen? I chastised myself, looking around for something to do with the egg. The hay Maedhros used to pad the crates lay in the far corner. Perfect. I rushed to it, holding the egg in one arm while I pushed the straw around and then buried the egg into it, making it look like it had been forgotten.

It rocked back and forth, the surface moving with the violent hatching of the Great Dragon. I couldn’t be here when it hatched. If the hatchling imprinted on me, then Maedhros would know for sure that I had taken the egg out of the crate. Rising, I took a few slow, reluctant steps away from the egg. I’m sorry, I whispered. I’m so sorry, but I can’t save you from him.

I hurried up the stairs and back to my room, praying the little dragon would survive until Maedhros returned. A few hours later, I couldn’t stand his pitiful hungry cries and got the package of beef cubes I had planned to cook for Maedhros and Corilla’s dinner the other night. I didn’t go down the stairs, just tossed the package down to him, after removing the plastic wrapping.

I hurried up the stairs, back to my room, praying the little dragon would survive until Maedhros returned.

Maedhros didn’t come back that day. I sat in my room, huddled in the corner, covering my ears, trying not to hear the cries of the hatchling downstairs. He was hungry, and I came out of hiding briefly to toss some more meat from the kitchen down to him. I couldn’t comfort him. The hatchling would imprint to me and Maedhros would never allow me to live because of it. Closing the basement door again went against every instinct in me as a female and a Tinuviel, the Rikashi guardians of Great Dragon eggs and hatchlings.

A few hours later, I was surprised when I heard its calls become louder and I realized he somehow made his way upstairs. His obsidian nose pressed against the crack at the bottom of the door, and he snuffed, calling again. I shook my head, begging silently for him to leave as tears tracked down my cheeks. Eventually, he gave up and wandered away. As the day progressed, he started sounding less lonely and more angry. Calling for blood and torn flesh.

An abandoned child who became angry and destructive for the lack of love. This hurt me in ways I didn’t know if I could recover from. I betrayed every lesson my mother had tried to instill in me, yet I could not find the courage to do what I knew I should. Let him imprint on me. All I had to do was open the door and find him, hold him, love him. Instead, I endured two days of hearing his anger grow. Not daring to leave my room, despite my hunger, until I finally felt my father and half-sister approaching. I felt somewhat relieved. It would mean the return of the beatings, the belittling, and everything else that came from them being here, but at least I knew Maedhros would care for the dragon. The front door opened with a bang that was loud even up in my tiny corner bedroom. I sat in the middle of the pile of blankets I called a bed, my knees drawn up to my chest, rocking slightly back and forth. How would he punish me this time? Would he hit me? Refuse to feed me for a week? Lock me in the basement? Chain me outside like a dog? He’d done all of it before. I bit my lip to keep the soft moan at bay.

The Great Dragon let out a shriek of excitement, and then all was silent. I hated the quiet. Quiet meant Maedhros was thinking. Quiet meant that he was angry. Quiet meant pain. Pain that would shatter the silence.

I waited. And waited. Many minutes passed and still nothing. I eventually let out the breath I was holding, lest I suffocate. I sucked it back in again when I heard Corilla stomp up the stairs and into her room. She might be small but my half sister could make a lot of noise. My Tinuviel senses told me Maedhros remained downstairs. I forced myself to relax a little, but knew better than to let down my guard completely. I stood, straightened my tattered black dress, and started for the door. It burst open, a quick gasp escaping my lips as Corilla glared at me.

We are leaving this place. Pack up everything and come downstairs. You have a half hour. With no more explanation, she turned on her heel and disappeared from sight. I frowned in confusion. I could have reached into either of their minds and plucked out the reasons for this, but like Corilla, I had no training in using my telepathy. Unlike Corilla, neither she nor Maedhros knew I could do it.

Gem, now! She shouted at me before stomping back down the stairs.

Having nothing to pack of my own, other than my blankets and pillow, I scurried into her and then Maedhros’ rooms and made bundles out of my blankets with their things, part of me wondering why I didn’t just linger and be left behind. Of course, I knew neither of them would actually let me stay behind. They would come back for me. They always came back for me. Someone who could cook and clean for them was what they needed.

My step slowed on the stairs, not at all anxious to see Maedhros. He was still in his hybrid form, and to my surprise, he sat in a chair, eyes staring blankly, wing tips touching the floor, tail still. The Great Dragon hatchling stood on its back legs, forelegs resting on Maedhros’s leg, his tongue occasionally darting out to lick the hand that lay limply on the knee.

Something hit me in the stomach. Ouch.

Carry it.

I took the suitcase with no argument, my eyes returning to my father. Corilla? What happened? I whispered.

There is no time now. You will fix him when we get somewhere safe.

Fix him? I took a step closer, shouldering yet another bag Corilla handed me. How could she have suitcases packed? As heavy as they were, it obviously was not clothes. As I rearranged my load of blanket bags and now the two suitcases, I looked through my lashes for any signs of injury. I could see only some slight scratches on his neck, a deeper one across his shoulder, but nothing serious. Nothing that wouldn’t heal on its own. He has only minor wounds, Corilla.

She turned to me, her golden eyes flashing dangerously. Shut up and do as you’re told.

I ducked my head, breaking eye contact. Yes, Corilla.

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Iraised my hand in farewell one last time as my brother, Aerandir, and my new sister-in-law, Josephine, disappeared into the crowd. They were flying to Cairo, Egypt to quicken another Great Dragon egg. A few months ago, Josephine, like all humans, did not know our race existed. Now, not only did she know about Rikashi, she married one. Much to our shock, we learned she had Rikashi ancestors and was, as far as we knew, one of only two remaining members of the clan Tinuviel. All of this she’d handled surprisingly well. I had been so sure in my belief my brother was better off forgetting her, but the young woman had the rare ability to remain calm in a crisis or when exposed to things most of the human race considered fantasy.

The only other Tinuviel was Maedhros, who in his insanity had slaughtered the rest of his clan, along with many from the other clans as well, and captured and tortured me. He disappeared after out last battle with him. Seeing Leena and her brothers, Gawain, Gareth and Lancelot defending Josephine, and her revelation it was his aunt who had betrayed the hiding space of Great Dragon eggs seemed to break him. Though we did find out later that he was not a blood relation to the Meranwe who had been at the center of the Melwaul, the slaughter of the Great Dragons.

I turned my attention to the board showing the flights, groaning when I saw mine was delayed by an hour. One of the few times I had to rely on the public airlines and my departure time was crucial. Would there be time when I would be delayed? Calidan’s summons had been urgent, his mental voice weak. Others of the Council had confirmed his failing health. I needed to see my mentor, and he made it very clear he had something of great importance to tell me and guide me with.

I returned to my seat, watching the people passing without really seeing them, lost in my own thoughts. I had news of my own for him, though I was uncertain I should worry about telling him now. Over the weeks since my rescue, I had discovered I could now heal with a touch, an ability reserved for the Surion. I didn’t have complete control over it, but it was there. The clans were extremely careful about the mixing of the bloodlines. It was so rare as to be almost forbidden. Though in the past it wasn’t as frowned upon, perhaps there was a Surion ancestor I wasn’t aware of. I had discovered it by accident at the manor Josephine now owned. A Gwindor was complaining of a headache and I patted his shoulder in sympathy and felt a strange warmth run through my arm to my hand and into the man. He claimed his headache had disappeared and went on his way. The fact remained if I had a trait of another clan, then the logical assumption was I had mixed blood. It must be a false assumption. As Mother mentioned nothing other than our pure Gwindor heritage.

Although the healing ability was not the first incident of my showing other clan traits. In fact, the first I had exhibited had been breathing fire like the Carnesir. Slowly over the years, I had developed all the clan powers. I now held them all. If it was unlikely that my parents were from different clans, then it was nigh impossible that they themselves were mixed blood. So what did this mean? When I first went to Calidan for training and discovered my increasing abilities, he had not seemed surprised, but it was not something we had ever discussed. Perhaps it was this ability he wished to speak with me about.

Flight number 657 to London has been delayed. It will now be arriving at 8pm.

The mumbled voice from the speakers over head pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts and I rubbed a hand over my eyes. Delayed, yet again. The inactivity was making me realize how incredibly exhausted I was. I had not slept a full night since—

No, I would not think about my weeks of torture. The memories tormented my dreams enough. There was a newsstand not too far up the concourse. I would purchase a book, a cup of coffee and read until whatever was delaying my flight resolved. Once properly fortified with coffee and a book, I read. Unfortunately, the uncomfortable seat, the dull roar of the surrounding people, and the predictable plot of the book did nothing to keep sleep at bay.

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Pale blue eyes glowed from the darkness, moving closer, the light illuminating a face of harsh angles. I knew from his sinister smile what he was here for, and I tried to fight, but they again chained me to the table. I could not run. His hand moved toward me and pulled one of my forelegs straight as he reached beside him to a small table. He said nothing as his eyes held mine. I knew what was coming when I saw the scalpel still stained with my blood from the last time and shut my eyes, hoping to block out what was coming. The pain as he cut into my leg still took my breath away as he cut to the bone. Something metal, most likely a pair of pliers, clamped around the bone and twisted sharply. I couldn’t stop the screech of agony and could imagine his smile. He moved to my other foreleg, and with the same pliers, extracted my claws again. I prayed to pass out, but all I could do was endure the pain and fight the building nausea. How long he continued the session, I did not know. Time meant nothing amid the pain. Only the sounds of my blood roaring in my ears, the crunch of bones and scales as they were broken, a child laughing, and someone else gasping with every injury.

Maedhros’s face loomed in my vision again, his clawed finger moving toward my face. I could no longer hold back the cry when white hot pain lanced into my eye and I mercifully passed out.

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I jolted awake. The book hitting the floor. A few people were staring at me as I wiped the sweat from my brow. Always the dreams—no, not dreams, memories. Sometimes they did not end in pain though, sometimes they ended with an angel bringing an end to the horror. I leaned over, picked up the book, and checked my watch, ignoring the slight tremor in my hand, trying to push the memories away. How long had I