Books by Colin Lindsay
The Goddess’s Scythe
Raven’s Wings
Death’s Angel
Queen’s Sacrifice
for Katherine
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without written permission of the author.
Text and cover art copyright © 2020 by Colin Lindsay
Cover art by Andra Moisescu
All rights reserved
ISBN: 978-1-7772989-0-6
Preface
Kala sat shivering on the floor of the tiny compartment, wondering what the hell she was doing there. What pushed her to leave the village? Had she done it to protect Lily? Was it her promise to a dying man? Was she chasing Skye, unlikely though it was that she’d ever find him? Would her restlessness have made her leave eventually, if she didn’t meet her end in the woods first? The reasons swirled together, and the more she thought about them, the less sense they made.
Her stomach rumbled. She had no idea how long her food and water would have to last, so she rationed them. By her reckoning, she’d been confined for five or six days when the door was yanked open, and two sets of rough hands hauled her out into the blinding light. She heard a sigh and struggled against the glare to identify its source.
“Do with her what you will,” a cold voice instructed, “but I want her boots.”
Table of Contents
1 Kala
2 Kala
3 Kala
4 Lily
5 Kala
6 Skye
7 Kala
8 Kala
9 Kala
10 Kala
11 Kala
12 Kala
13 Meadow
14 Kala
15 Lily
16 Kala
17 Kala
18 Kala
19 Skye
20 Kala
21 Forest
22 Kala
23 Skye
24 Kala
25 Forest
26 Kala
27 Dhara
28 Forest
29 Kala
30 Skye
31 Forest
32 Kala
33 Dhara
34 Kala
35 Forest
36 Skye
1
Kala
Kala shifted her weight slowly, imperceptibly, in her high perch. The tree already swayed in the wind, so she likely needn’t be so cautious about masking her movements, but game had been scarce, and hunger gnawed at her.
The trail below was barely visible in the gloom. She had selected a spot near where deer might pass, but far from places where predators might lie in wait. Her sense of these things had kept her alive so far.
Kala leaned into the trunk and breathed in the scent of pine. Escaping to the forest calmed and excited her in equal measure. As predator and prey, she felt alive in a way she never could caged inside the village walls.
A shadow moved across her peripheral vision, and she froze. It was too large to be an animal but too small to be a passing cloud. She strained her eyes upwards through the canopy, the blue sky winking in and out through an array of dancing peepholes.
There! A black mass teased its existence. It could only be an airship and at a low altitude too. She hurriedly slung her bow and bound off her perch, hurtling downward from branch to branch, all stealth abandoned. It was reckless and would undoubtedly attract the forest’s scarier denizens, but she couldn’t be out of the village when the ship landed.
She hit the forest floor in an explosion of pine needles. Pain shot through her legs and up her spine, but she gritted her teeth and bolted toward the village. The irony of racing toward her doom, rather than away from it, was not lost on her. Everyone her age lived in terror of the airships, and no one had more to fear from them than herself.
As she tore through the trees, she did the math. An airship came about twice a year. Half the time, they simply ferried goods between villages upwind and down, but sometimes they brought with them an unlucky soul or required one. How the unpiloted ships knew whether someone was onboard was magic or some long lost technology, but if it did not contain a passenger, the ship would stay put, preventing others from coming until the village starved without the critical supplies they bore. It was gods-damned extortion, Kala thought bitterly as she squeezed through a thicket.
The branches clawed at her as she raced forward. She’d return scratched and bleeding, but she’d receive worse attention if she were conspicuously absent. Only youth between fifteen and sixteen were eligible to be sent away in the airships, and she’d just turned fifteen. There’d typically be a dozen or more youth to select between, but as Kala’s luck had it, there were currently only nine, herself included. One of them would be sent away from everything they knew and everyone they loved, and she was at the top of the Council’s list.
She ran through the list of candidates while she tried in vain to outrun the wind that propelled the ship. The list included her friends Lily, Cera, and Calix. Lily was Councilor Claudius’s daughter, and while that wasn’t supposed to grant her immunity, everyone knew it did. Councilor’s Sayer’s granddaughter, Kira, was probably similarly protected.
Cera was most likely at greatest risk after Kala. First, she was also a girl, and the professions to which girls were steered were less valued than those to which boys were directed. Cera’s choice of becoming a teacher was held in particularly low regard. The Council couldn’t very well just send girls away, however, as there’d be none left to marry the boys, but in Kala’s cohort, there were five girls and four boys, so at least one of the girls was deemed expendable. Because Cera was dating Lily, some of Lily’s immunity might transfer to her, but it also took them out of the pool of marriable girls and put targets on both their backs.
Her only other friend, Calix, was apprenticed to the blacksmith, and that bestowed on him unique importance to the village. He was also generally regarded as the most dutiful youth in the village, and his entire family was held in high esteem, so it was highly unlikely that he’d be sent away. It was also somewhat known that Calix harbored feelings for Kala, and if the village deemed them as a good match, maybe some of the glow of his halo would shine on Kala, although she’d be damned if she’d pretend to like a boy just to protect herself.
Kala burst through the tree line mid-thought. The brightness in the fields surrounding the village blinded her momentarily, and she slowed slightly, knowing that if she plowed into the crops and damaged even a single plant, her punishment would be severe. She aligned herself with the rows of corn and raced between them, her lungs hammering in her chest and her legs burning.
Kala considered her own situation. While everyone her age was apprenticing and desperate to prove their worth to the village, she was long overdue in choosing a calling. She just couldn’t stand the thought of doing the same thing for the rest of her life. While she gravitated toward hunting, Councilor Janus made his disapproval of girls as hunters quite clear. Aidan, another of the nine candidates her age, was an apprentice hunter, and while Kala was ten times better at it than he was, he was viewed as a provider, while she was just viewed as odd. There had always been whispers that something was off about her – that she was stupidly reckless to venture out into the woods alone, or maybe suicidal. Perhaps she communed with the dark spirits of the forest and bartered slivers of her soul for the game she caught.
Her grand
father never pressured her to select a profession. He’d raised her on his own since her parents died. He was himself an outsider, having been carried to the village in an airship as a youth. She took after him physically and had a honeyed glow to her skin that set her apart from the general tanned look of the villagers. It bothered her to be different as a child, but her grandfather told her that she looked exotic, and she liked the sound of that.
Kala headed for the nearest gate just as the airship drifted over the village. Her legs finally gave out, and she slowed, gasping for breath. She limped past Cade, who stood guard at the gate. He was another of the candidates, so his attention was transfixed by the ship, and he ignored Kala as she brushed passed him. Cade was good for little beyond staring at the woods, but he was the nephew of the Captain of the Guard, and his uncle Torin was the most intimidating person in the village after Councilors Claudius and Sayer, so it possible that he might be spared being sent away to avoid angering his uncle.
Kala darted between the villagers that had begun pouring into the hard-packed dirt streets and found herself hemmed in by a group of farmers. She allowed herself to be carried with them past the small homes and modest shops. She spied Doran to her left. He and his girlfriend Brienne were the last two candidates. His being a farmer and her an apprenticed baker rendered them just the type of salt-of-the-earth couple that the village loved. Kala couldn’t imagine a world in which the Council would send either one of them away.
That was it – her depressing calculus was complete. There were nine candidates, with one of the five girls most likely in the crosshairs. Removing the Councilors’ daughter and granddaughter left Cera, Brienne, and Kala. Cera was dating one of the Councilors’ daughters, and Brienne fit the village’s mold in every way that Kala did not. Kala was the misfit, and misfits were sent away.
Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard her name called from deep within the crowd. Damn it, Lily, not now, she thought and immediately felt guilty for it. Trust Lily to disregard the event of the year and see only an opportunity to visit. Kala pretended she didn’t hear her best friend and kept moving forward.
The villagers were distracted enough that they forgot to give Kala the wide berth they usually did, although she still got disapproving looks for the leathers she wore, and wrinkled noses at the smell of her sweat and the deep forest. Their attention quickly returned to the airship, however, as it was close enough now to make out the ropes dangling from its undercarriage as they brushed the rooftops. The ship itself, which was suspended below a jet-black balloon, was menacingly ugly and resembled what Kala always imagined the offspring of a wild boar and a bug would look like.
Kala squeezed through the far gate and arrived at the landing field in time to see several men straining against the ship’s ropes as they tried to wrestle it down to the stone dais in the center of the field. They struggled against the gusting wind, and the crowd gasped every time a man was hauled into the air, but more and more villagers surged forward to help, and the ship was gradually pulled closer to the dais. Kala stared at the vessel that could easily rip her from her loved ones and bear her away on the wind.
With almost every able-bodied man bearing down on a rope, the tide began to turn in their favor. As the first rope crossed the dais, an apprentice hunter, not even in his teens, rushed forward and threaded the rope through the nearest iron ring set in the ground. One by one, the men on that rope dropped their hold and scrambled to acquire a new one on the other side of the ring. Several times it looked as though the ship would be lost with any drop in the number of men wrestling it down.
Other youth rushed forward, finding the ends of ropes and threading them through the rings. Eventually, all the ropes were passed through rings, although not without a considerable measure of chaos and recriminating shouts of, “You’re crossing the lines! Two rings over! No, three! Gods-damn it!” The whole affair became more orderly once it was sorted out which rope went through which ring and the men slowly drew the ship downward toward the dais.
Councilor Janus barked orders about which rope to tie off, in which order, using which knot, and how to retie them when left-over-right became right-over-left. The last rope was secured, and the ship rested in place like a squat beetle.
Onlookers kept a respectful distance and slowly released their collectively-held breath. Kala seized her chance to push through to the front of the crowd, feeling the need to face her fate up close. She felt a little guilty about shoving past old women and young children, but everyone already regarded her as a pariah, so it was easy to disregard their outrage.
Some part of her always knew that her days in the village were numbered. As an outsider himself, her grandfather had raised her not to fear the world the way everyone else did, and in this regard, she felt utterly alone. Even her friends, whom she loved dearly, were not just afraid of what lay beyond the village, they were devoid of any curiosity about it. Their world was small, and they were content it its cozy embrace. Kala was the only one who bristled. She looked down at the bracelet on her wrist that everyone wore. It was a simple braided loop and it signified community. To Kala, it felt like a shackle.
She looked back up at the airship. She’d been fascinated by them all her life, which hardly branded her as unique, except that her fascination lay more with where they came from than what they carried. Everyone else was more interested in the treasures they held and the sacrifices they required. The airships were the lifeblood of the village, and they could invigorate it or made it bleed.
Kala was shoved out of the way by Councilor Claudius as he pushed past her. She regained her balance as he strode toward the men milling around the ship. He pulled his robes into place, puffed out his chest, and slowed his pace to appear less hurried and more deliberate. It was all part of his well-rehearsed public persona, and it didn’t fool Kala one bit. She was his daughter’s best friend, and she knew him for the tyrant he was, despite his campaign to appear otherwise.
Claudius altered his trajectory toward Torin, a colossus of corded muscle barely contained by his leathers, and they held a brief conversation in tones too low for Kala to hear. Instructions given, Torin wheeled and approached the ship. Only Kala noticed Claudius step back and position himself between two guards.
Torin traced his hands along the ship’s sleek length, seeking the doorway. Finding it, he pushed a panel inwards to reveal a wheel, which he gripped and attempted to spin. It didn’t budge, and the crowd could see as his back muscles knotted under his shirt that it wasn’t through any lack of strength. He released his hold and flexed his fingers, then re-applied his grip and attempted to turn the wheel in the other direction. Not sure if he was tightening it or loosening it, he alternated and struggled for a brief while until it yielded.
Dimwit, thought Kala. On its final rotation, there was an audible click, and the crowd fell silent. Torin drew a knife from his belt, gripped it tightly, and moved to the hinged side of the door. He grabbed the handle in his free hand and pulled the door open. It swung wide, and he readied himself. Nothing happened, but everyone continued to hold their breath. Torin moved closer to the doorway, knife in hand, and peered in. After adjusting his eyes to the relative dim of the interior, he stepped inside. A moment later, his head popped back out, startling the crowd, which jumped and gasped in unison.
“The passenger compartment is locked,” he announced and sheathed his knife. The nine candidates exhaled, and Kala felt a slight tremor in her hands as the tension left her. She kicked the head off a thistle and made her way back into the crowd to find Lily.
Kala followed her voice as it carried above the din until she spotted her head of light blonde hair. She was chatting with Cera and Calix, with her little sister Meadow hovering at her side. Lily had her hair tied back, and the sleeves of her blouse rolled up, having come directly from the vegetable gardens. Cera looked stunning, as always, in a sundress. Her auburn hair fell in waves, and her green eyes sparkled as she watched Lily. Calix shared the color of Cera
’s eyes, but his hair was sandy blonde, short-cropped and unkempt. He was handsome in his way, but he’d been a close friend for so long that Kala didn’t see it. He spotted her before the others did, but she ignored him and waited patiently for Lily to notice her.
Lily was going on about how one of the blankets she’d made was to be placed in the Offering. She beamed with pride and went on about it until she finally caught sight of Kala.
“Kala!” she squealed so loudly that it made Kala wince despite her happiness to see her too. “I worry about you so much when you disappear into those dreadful woods,” Lily chastised her as she enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug. She released her to look her over thoroughly for signs of injury.
“Lily, I’m fine,” Kala protested, but Lily narrowed her pale blue eyes and furrowed her brow.
“You’re not fine. You’re all scratched up,” She admonished her.
“I was attacked by a pack of killer squirrels,” Kala explained.
Lily’s eyes went wide. “Really?”
Lily’s naiveté never ceased to amaze Kala. “No, of course not. I just ran through some branches, that’s all.”
“Okay,” Lily replied, only partly mollified. “Just steer clear of squirrels.”
Lily was so earnest in her concern that Kala suppressed her eye roll and tolerated being inspected every time she emerged from the forest. Lily was even more fearful of the woods than most villagers, having lost her mother to them five years ago. Her mother had just up and walked into them one night, wearing nothing more than a dressing gown, and was never seen again. Every time Kala returned from the place where Lily’s mother had not, Lily was overcome with warring emotions.
“I interrupted,” Kala said, trying to steer the conversation away from herself and the woods.
“Hardly,” Lily replied, but launched into a new speculation, “I wonder if there’ll be hooks. There have to be hooks!” Lily was recounting what she’d heard everyone in the village say at some point or another. They were perilously low on fishing hooks, having lost many over the past few years to fighting fish and submerged branches, and now they risked not being able to catch and dry enough fish to last them through the long winter. Children had been conscripted to search the stream for lost hooks, and while they found precious few, they were treated as heroes when they did, and the praise kept them at it, despite their relatively low success. The weavers had even tried weaving nets, but with dismal results. The whole village was on edge.
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