Page 4 of Dark Shaman: The Lost Treasure
The man was too handsome and too young for a cruel warlord who ruled over this entire mystery island. He seemed to be inhis 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.
