Page 2 of Dark Shaman: The Lost Treasure (The Children Of The Gods #98)

ELUHEED

Eighteen months ago.

L ord Navuh's ridiculously lavish receiving room reeked of expensive cigars, fear, and greed. The cigars belonged to the lord, the fear to Eluheed, and the greed to the Pakhan.

"What do I need a shaman for?" the lord of this godforsaken island asked. "I do not need to speak to the dead. In fact, I prefer not to. And I do not need a witch doctor either."

Navuh was as impressive as he was terrifying—tall, broad-shouldered, with the bearing of an emperor and the cold eyes of an executioner.

He was also into theatrics, wearing an intricately embroidered caftan over an equally luxurious gown.

All that was missing was a turban and a neatly trimmed beard, but he was clean shaven, and his sleek black hair was styled in the latest fashion.

The man was too handsome and too young for a cruel warlord who ruled over this entire mystery island.

He seemed to be in his early or mid-thirties, but his eyes looked ancient and cold.

If Eluheed hadn't known better, he would have thought the guy was an immortal.

But to the best of his knowledge, Eluheed was the only immortal on Earth, and there were no others or, at least, there weren't supposed to be.

He resolved to say as little as possible. He was just a simple human with some small shamanic ability, which Gorchenco hoped to barter to the lord.

Too valuable to kill but not interesting enough to investigate.

The Pakhan crossed his legs and smiled, the expression never reaching his cold blue eyes. "Elias is not a regular shaman, Lord Navuh. Instead of functioning as a bridge to the world of the spirits, he can sometimes predict the future."

Eluheed kept his gaze fixed on the elaborate Persian rug beneath his feet, counting the threads to keep his mind occupied.

One hundred and seventy-two years had passed since Mount Ararat buried his charges, and in all that time, he'd managed to avoid situations like this one.

He'd been careful, moving every decade or so, changing identities, and using his abilities sparingly to earn a living, never revealing their full extent.

Until a month ago, when he'd made the catastrophic mistake of giving Dimitri Gorchenco a true reading. He should have lied.

Navuh's dark eyes sparkled with interest. "What kind of future?"

The sound of the distant waves breaking against the shore rose to roar in Eluheed's ears, a mockery of the paradise this island pretended to be. This was no tropical haven but a fortress.

Gorchenco spread his arms as if in apology. "Elias's abilities are modest but useful. He can predict events such as pregnancies, marriages, and deaths. But most importantly, he can predict betrayals, which I know is extremely valuable to you."

Eluheed cursed himself for the thousandth time.

He hadn't known who the man was when he'd entered his shop in Leningrad.

Gorchenco had seemed like just another wealthy client seeking mystical guidance.

The reading had started as theater, the kind of vague predictions that could mean anything.

But then his real gift had stirred, and he'd seen the betrayal coming—Gorchenco's right-hand man plotting with his main rival to stage an assassination so he could take over as his natural successor.

The words had spilled from his mouth before he could stop them.

A week or so later, after the prediction proved true and saved Gorchenco's life, four goons appeared in his shop. They'd bound and blindfolded him, and several hours later, he'd found himself in the Pakhan's estate, serving as the oligarch's seer.

Eluheed had thought that was as bad as it got. He'd been wrong.

After a failed escape attempt, he'd been loaded onto a private plane and flown to this island in the middle of nowhere. Now he was sitting before someone who made Gorchenco look like a choirboy.

Navuh's smile was pure malevolence. "How much do you want for him?"

The words hit Eluheed like a kick to the gut. Was he being sold like a slave?

"I don't want money." Gorchenco leaned back in his chair with the confidence of a man holding good cards. "I want a guarantee that I will remain your sole arms supplier for the next decade."

A decade. Eluheed's heart sank. Whatever business these men were conducting, it was substantial enough that exclusive rights were worth dragging him to this island and offering him like a bargaining chip.

Navuh nodded slowly, considering. "First, let's see if he's worth anything. If he predicts something useful, you've got a deal. If not, I'll kill him."

The casual way he said it made Eluheed's blood run cold. Had he survived volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, and centuries of wandering only to die at the hands of an arms dealer on a private island?

He couldn't die.

Not here, and not before he fulfilled his duty, no matter how impossible it was or how unlikely it seemed that he would ever succeed in delivering the treasure to where it belonged.

He'd better come up with something useful or die at the hands of this sociopath.

"Well, seer?" Navuh's voice cut through his thoughts. "Who is going to betray me?"

The question hung in the air like a guillotine. Eluheed could feel both men watching him, Gorchenco with nervous anticipation, Navuh with predatory interest. He had seconds to decide how to play this. With too little information, he'd be deemed useless. Too much, and he would be deemed a danger.

"I will need to touch you, Lord Navuh." He kept his voice steady despite his racing heart. "That's the only way I can predict things that are connected to you."

Navuh's expression darkened, and for a moment, Eluheed thought he'd made a fatal error. Physical contact was not something this man permitted lightly.

"If you don't need skin-to-skin contact," Navuh said, "I'd prefer that you touch me over my sleeve."

"It needs to be skin to skin," Eluheed insisted, though every instinct screamed at him to back down. "I need to hold your hand."

The lord looked at him as if he were a piece of gum he'd scraped off his shoe. The disgust in those dark eyes was palpable, mixed with a curiosity that might be the only thing keeping Eluheed alive.

"Very well." Navuh extended his hand across the space between their chairs. "You may touch my hand."

Eluheed reached out, his movements careful and deliberate, giving Navuh's security no reason to be alarmed. The moment his fingers made contact with Navuh's palm, the vision slammed into him with the force of a sledgehammer.

Power .

Ancient power that had nothing to do with money or weapons. For a moment, Eluheed was confused by the sheer weight of years he sensed, but then understanding came—this man was old, far older than he appeared, with centuries of violence trailing behind him like a blood-soaked cloak.

He was an immortal, a very old one, even older than Eluheed, but the how of it was irrelevant at the moment, and Eluheed pushed the disturbing revelation aside to focus on the question Navuh wanted an answer to.

Family connections radiated from Navuh like a spider's web. Sons, many sons, some by blood but most adopted, each with a different thread of loyalty and ambition. And there, like a wound in the web, was the betrayal Navuh feared.

A son. Not just any son, but one that Navuh cared about. The vision sharpened. The man had Navuh's dark hair and dark eyes, but he lacked his father's cruelty.

The son was good, trapped in an evil empire and trying to minimize the damage it caused. The son walked a tightrope between his father's expectations and his own moral compass.

He couldn't give Navuh that information. But he had to give him something.

"A son," Eluheed said, his voice hoarse. "A son will betray you."

Navuh's hand tightened around his, the grip becoming painful. "Which son? I have many."

"I can't see clearly," Eluheed said, and it wasn't a lie. His gift never gave clear visions. "He is far away from here."

That seemed to narrow the options because Navuh's crushing grip on his hand eased a fraction. "When?" The word came out sharp as a blade.

"I don't know." This part was also true. "The future is fluid. It could be soon, or it could be years. It's not something that puts your life in danger. He's not after your head."

"What form does this betrayal take?" Navuh leaned forward, his dark eyes boring into Eluheed's. "Does he steal from me? Sell information to my enemies?"

Eluheed felt pressure inside his mind and realized that the lord was trying to enter his thoughts or maybe compel him to say things he did not want to.

Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the air-conditioning, which was practically freezing the room. He had to shield his mind but not appear as if he was doing so. He had to give enough to be valuable but not enough to sign the son's death warrant.

"The vision is unclear," he said. "I see conflict. Your son doesn't wish you harm—that much is certain. The betrayal comes from conscience, not ambition. He's a good man trying to do what he believes is right."

"That narrows it to one name only." There was contempt in his voice that could have curdled milk. "I thought I taught him better. I thought that I raised him strong. I am very disappointed."

"Perhaps that's the entire betrayal," Eluheed ventured, then immediately regretted it as Navuh's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Explain."

Eluheed swallowed hard. "He might not be doing anything to undermine you, but he is disappointing you, and that feels like a betrayal. It shouldn't, though. You should be proud of him."

The silence that followed was deafening. Navuh hadn't moved, hadn't even blinked, but Eluheed could feel the violence coiled within him, ready to strike.

He'd made a grave mistake.

Eluheed wasn't in a position to tell the lord what he should or shouldn't do or feel. One wrong word and he'd be dead before his next heartbeat.

The problem was that he'd already misspoken, and he was counting the heartbeats until his execution.

"I should be proud?" Navuh spat.

He had to save the situation somehow. Perhaps flattery would soften the blow that was sure to come.

"It takes tremendous strength to go against someone as powerful as you, Lord Navuh," Eluheed whispered. "Your son has backbone. Perhaps you can work things out with him."

When Navuh released his hand, Eluheed had to stop himself from cradling it against his chest. The immortal lord leaned back in his chair, studying him with those terrible, dark eyes.

"Tell me more," he commanded.

This was dangerous territory. The son had always had a conscience. He'd played the part expected of him while secretly working to minimize his father's damage. But telling Navuh that would mean revealing how long the deception had been going on.

"I see... a woman," Eluheed said, grasping for glimpses of the vision that might be half-truth. "She doesn't turn him against you, but his love for her shows him that there are other paths."

"A woman." Navuh's laugh was like breaking glass. "I should have known. It's always a woman. The weakness that eventually brings down all great men."

Navuh stood abruptly, and Eluheed tensed, ready for the killing blow. But the lord walked up to his own portrait, hands clasped behind his back as he gazed at it.

"Did you see anything else? Other betrayals? Other threats?"

Eluheed hesitated. He'd seen glimpses of plots and schemes, but they were too fleeting to make sense of. He reminded himself that he should appear valuable but not dangerous.

"There are always threats," he said. "And opportunities. I didn't see much beyond what you asked of me, but I got a glimpse of something in Iran. You should establish a greater presence there."

With careful manipulation, perhaps he would convince the lord to take him back to Ararat.

Navuh returned to his chair and leveled his gaze at Gorchenco, who had remained silent throughout the reading.

"Your shaman has some skill," he said. "The question is whether that skill is worth a decade of exclusive arms deals."

Gorchenco straightened, sensing opportunity. "The betrayal he warned me about saved my life."

"And now he warns me of betrayal, too." Navuh's fingers drummed on the armrest. "Tell me, seer—can your visions be changed? If I know a betrayal is coming, can I prevent it?"

This was the question Eluheed had been dreading. The truth was complex—some futures were fluid, others seemed carved in stone. And sometimes, knowing the future was what caused it to come true.

"The future is like a river. You can dam it, divert it, but water always finds a way to flow. You might prevent the specific betrayal I saw, but your son's conscience is harder to change. The best advice I can give you is to work with him and not against him."

Navuh's smile was ice. "You are right. It might not come true, which is why I need to keep you around for when danger draws near. You will be my personal seer, available to me at all times."

The good news was that Navuh wasn't going to kill him right away. The bad news was that he was to become a prisoner on this island with no way to escape unless he could somehow convince the lord to send him to Iran.

Navuh turned to Gorchenco. "Your shaman has earned you a decade of exclusive dealings." He offered the Russian his hand. "Congratulations."

The mobster smiled broadly. "Thank you, Lord Navuh. I'm sure Elias will serve you well."

"He'd better." The threat in those two words was unmistakable.

Navuh turned back to Eluheed. "This island is your forever home now, and the sooner you accept your fate, the more comfortable your life will be.

" He smiled, and the expression was scarier than when he didn't. "If you give me valuable information, you will be rewarded.

You'll have access to plenty of beautiful women, if that's what you fancy.

If you prefer men, that can be arranged as well. "

How progressive of him.

Eluheed chose not to respond.

His charges were buried beneath a mountain, and now he was buried too, in a different kind of tomb.

"Where are you going to keep him?" Gorchenco asked.

The lord thought for a moment. "The harem. It's the safest place on the island because none of my sons or warriors can access him there. I won't have them trying to extract predictions or using him against me." Another cruel smile played at his lips. "No one gets in without my explicit permission."

The harem.

A gilded cage within the larger prison of this isolated island, but it was better than a dingy cell in a dungeon.