The Allseer Trilogy

by Kaitlyn Rouhier

  “Well, if the rebels ever decide to use these tunnels, it won’t be.” He braced himself, giving one final tug. The hatch opened and a wave of stale air drifted out from below, smelling of damp earth and must. “You ready for that adventure, princess?”

  Lillana stood in the flickering light of a torch, rubbing her arms to fend off the chill of the damp tunnel. It was cold and it only heightened her sense of unease as she stared into the darkness skirting the edge of the light. It was impossible to tell how far the tunnels went or if anything stood in the dark looking back. She could hear tiny claws on stone as rats skittered by, squeaking as they went. Her only sense of comfort, and annoyance, was Sampson at her side.

  He’d been in an odd mood, questioning her about things that felt treasonous. If he’d talked in such a tone to her mother, it was likely Sampson would have found himself strung from the nearest chandelier. He’d become different since that day at the execution. He wasn’t the gentle priest dogging her heels and painstakingly trying to teach her about the world. He was a highly intelligent warrior and that sharp edge was starting to show through. He did have a soft spot, however, and it seemed to be reserved for her enemy. She wasn’t sure how that made her feel. Disgusted? Angry? Unsure? It was all a jumbled mess in her head.

  The way he talked about the cursed, it was almost as if he felt sorry for them, as if he thought them something worth saving. It wasn’t how she’d been raised, what she’d come to know over the years. Those with powers were an abomination, a failed creation of the traitorous Riel. She’d stolen power from Zekar to craft her own little playthings and her people had suffered for it for years. They were vile, evil creatures. Why would she possibly feel sorry for them?

  Sampson spoke, his voice echoing in the tunnel. “Ready?”

  “I might be if you’d just tell me where we are going.”

  “You’ll see,” he said, walking towards the looming darkness. She’d paid very little attention the first time they’d fled through the tunnels. Adrenaline had kept her sight narrowed, escape the only thing on her mind. Now she could see them, a vast network of low, stone walls. It would be so easy to get lost. What if Sampson abandoned her? What if he left her to the dark and the rats? Would he do such a thing?

  She tried not to let paranoia creep in. Despite the way he’d spoken of the cursed, he had saved her from them. She couldn’t just forget that. He’d cut down his fair share of them getting her to safety and he’d saved her life in the process. If he’d wanted her gone, he’d have just let them descend upon her back at the execution. She was being silly.

  Lillana kept close to his heels as they navigated the tunnels. They seemed to stretch on forever, an endless path of stone and dirt. Their little bubble of light was the only thing keeping the dark at bay and she found herself glancing at it, wondering at times if the flame wavered too much. “Just how well do you know the way?” she asked Sampson.

  “Well enough. You saw how long I stared at those maps for.”

  “Yes, but what would happen if we got lost?”

  “We’d probably die of thirst or be eaten alive by rats.”

  Lillana gasped, “You’re cruel. I can’t believe you’d say something like that.”

  “Sorry, Princess.” His smoky laugh reverberated off the walls and she hugged herself tighter, fearing the little squeaks sounding from the dark. She tried to keep track of their chosen path in her head, but after several twists and turns, she found herself completely turned around. It was no use.

  “We should be getting close now,” Sampson said, slowing his steps. “There will most likely be a Seeker or two. Don’t be alarmed and let me do the talking.”

  Easier said than done. While they were sworn to protect and serve her family, they were still cursed with unforgivable powers. When they were no longer needed, they would be purged along with the others. Sure enough, as they turned the corner, a masked figure stepped into the light.

  “Sampson?” the masked man asked, his voice tinged with surprise. “I wasn’t expecting to see you. Not down here at least.”

  “I’ve been studying the maps. Thought it might be useful to explore them instead of staring at a piece of parchment all day.”

  “And who travels with you?” the Seeker asked, peering around Sampson. Lillana looked away, trying not to make eye contact with the man. Luckily, Sampson blocked the way, hiding her in his shadow.

  “Now would be a great time for you to not ask questions,” he said gruffly. The Seeker groaned.

  “You’re going to catch the wrath of Zekar if you keep taking her out like this. We can’t protect her if we don’t know…”

  “Max, please. Just do me this one favor and keep your nose out of this, okay?”

  The man scoffed and stepped out of the way. He gave an elaborate bow, extending his arms towards the ladder visible at the lights edge. “Right this way, Princess. Enjoy your visit.” While not menacing, he seemed to be enjoying some hidden knowledge, an inside joke that Lillana wasn’t part of. It made her skin crawl.

  Sampson beckoned her to follow and she stepped past the masked man, shivering as she did. When they reached the ladder, he handed back the torch and she took it, basking in the warmth it provided. Sampson began climbing the ladder with practiced ease. When he reached the top, she heard him thump three times on the hatch and it creaked open, letting a shaft of bright light into the tunnel. He came back down, taking the torch from her and prompting her forward.

  “Go ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”

  The smell of the sea pushed her forward, driving her up the ladder as fast as her arms and legs would take her. She was ready to see the beauty of the city, to hear the distance crash of waves cascading into the cliffs, to be out of the oppressive confines of the tunnels. With a grunt, she hoisted herself out into the open, crawling over the lip of the hatch until she was on solid ground. She stood, brushing dirt off of her clothing only to find herself covered in chalky powder, her hands smeared with black soot. There was a bitter tang to the air. She raised her eyes and took in the burnt remains of what had once been the district dedicated to Riel. It had been razed to the ground only months prior. All that remained were gutted homes, twisted charcoal spires a remnant of what had once been a thriving part of the city.

  Something new had been built in the district. A tower loomed just ahead, built of slick black stone that looked as if it were weeping. A stout wall had been built around the tower, though whether it was to keep people in or out she could not say. Two Seekers stood watch over the only entrance.

  To the right of the tower, a massive scorched tree dominated the barren waste. How it had survived the fire that had ravaged everything else was a mystery, but it stood all the same and had come to serve a rather insidious purpose. Several bodies hung from the limbs of the great tree, swinging faintly in the breeze.

  Lillana felt her stomach lurch. She hadn’t been expecting this. The eyeless sockets of the dead seemed to be fixated on her, swollen tongues protruding from cracked lips. Crooked fingers pointed at her, as if she alone were to blame for the horrible things that had been done to their bodies before death. She tried to look away but she couldn’t move. Dozens of crows crowded the trees, cawing loudly as they leapt from corpse to corpse, picking away at the decay.

  She’d seen death before, had watched it happen firsthand at a number of executions. It had never bothered her then. She’d been surrounded by a wave of blood lust, a thirsting for justice that had numbed her to what she had seen. Every cry of the crowd, every cheer and jest, had drowned out the suffering of the cursed as they were burned, beheaded, and hanged.

  This was different. There was no crowd here. It was just her and the dead and the crows laughing at her fear. Caw, caw, caw. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Sampson put his hand on her shoulder.

  “Is all well, Lillana?”

  “I’m fine,” she snapped, tearing her eyes away from the swinging bodies. “What is this place?”

  �
��A prison. It is where we imprison most of the cursed awaiting execution.”

  Lillana narrowed her eyes, inspecting him for any hint at his motives. “Why would you bring me here?”

  Sampson looked down at her, his expression softening. “You just need to see. I need you to make the connection. If you’re to pass down judgement on these people, then you need to look them in the eye and see them as more than the filth you’ve deemed them to be.”

  She felt herself growing tenser by the second. He wanted her to meet the prisoners, to see them? It was ridiculous. It was beneath her. “Sampson, I won’t. I can’t. This is nonsense.”

  He frowned, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “You want to cure yourself of your fear, don’t you? Seeing them as humans and not as monsters is the first step.”

  She didn’t want to seem afraid, didn’t want fear to be what held her back. Feeling defeated, she motioned for Sampson to lead the way. She followed, trying hard to keep her eyes looking anywhere but the burnt tree. She didn’t need that image trailing her into the prison.

  The Seekers guarding the way stepped to either side as they approached, letting them pass beyond the thick wall. The tower was even bigger up close, a giant construct leering down at her. Samson opened the sturdy wooden door to the prison and then led her into a dark room smelling of urine and must and fear. They stood in a corridor, either side of it lined with prison cells. The only thing protecting her from the prisoners was a set of thick metal bars and it felt like so little when the occupants could break things with their minds.

  A man in the first cell, his hair a startling white, stared at her as they entered and she returned his gaze, her chin held high. He sat huddled against the far wall, his arms wrapped about himself. He looked like he’d seen a scuffle, his clothing disheveled and covered in dirt. A line of blood leaked from his nose, dribbled off his chin.

  There were prisoners in every cell, most in the same state as the first. No one struggled, no one attacked or so much as spoke as they walked down that long corridor. They simply watched, curious and quiet, eyes as big as the moon. It was as if they hadn’t quite registered where they were or how they had gotten there.

  Sampson took to the stairs and Lillana followed, careful not to touch the damp walls as they ascended. The second floor was another corridor, another row of cells and more prisoners.

  “There are several more levels just like this. Rows of the cursed and accused. Beneath this tower is an interrogation room and at the top is the warden’s office. You’ve met her a time or two. She leads the Seekers and keeps this prison in check,” Sampson explained.

  “And where are we heading?”

  “Near the top. There is a prisoner I’d like you to meet.”

  “I don’t like this at all.”

  “I wouldn’t have brought you here if I thought it would put you in danger. My job is to keep you safe after all.”

  Lillana tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut as they stopped on the third floor, walking down another long corridor to reach wherever it was he was taking her. She kept her eyes locked straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge the prisoners in her peripheral. Her heart was pounding louder than it had the day of the execution, when her life had been threatened by the very beasts she now shared a space with.

  Sampson led her down the hall and stopped in front of a wooden door to their left. The door squeaked on unoiled hinges as he pulled it open, and he motioned for her to step inside. She forced her legs to work, to take one step and then another until she was inside the room. It was small and cramped, barely able to contain the table and chairs that had been crammed inside.

  “Go ahead and take a seat, Lil,” Sampson said. “I’ll go fetch the person I’d like you to meet.”

  There was a whisper of his robes on the stone and when she turned, he was gone. She stood alone, eyeing every corner of the room with disgust. It smelled horrible. She looked to the chairs, old rickety things that wouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near the castle. What have you gotten me into, Sampson…

  Picking a seat should have been an easy thing but she struggled with her decision. If she sat closer to the door, she could bolt if needed, could flee the prison and escape its terrible confines. But she’d have her back to the prisoners and that long, empty hallway. The thought sent a shudder up her spine. She picked a seat facing the door. She wanted to see what was coming, to see what she had to face.

  She could hear Sampson returning, his low voice whispering to someone else out in the hall. Her curiosity was a damning thing and she had to force herself to stay seated, to not peek out into the corridor and glance at the prisoner he led her way. What rounded the corner was not what she had been expecting.

  A young girl stepped into the room, tiny and frail, her hand holding Sampson’s. Her blonde hair was a mess, a nest of tangles and bits of hay. She wore a stained dress far too big for her small frame. It drooped off her shoulders, revealing a bony expanse that made Lillana want to look away. “Sampson,” Lillana said, her voice wavering. “What is this?”

  Sampson gave her a reproaching frown, scooting out a chair for the young girl. She hoisted herself up, settling in while Sampson took a seat. She stared at Lillana with vibrant hazel eyes, the skin around them frightfully pale.

  “Netta, why don’t you say hello. This is Lillana, a friend of mine,” Sampson said softly, gesturing a hand towards her.

  The girl shuffled, her eyes dropping to the table as she said, “Hello.”

  Lillana’s mouth went dry as she fought down the questions that assaulted her. They struggled their way up her throat, threatening to leap out. She forced the words to form, sent them out into the open. “Hi, Netta.”

  She was a little girl. He’d said he was going to have her meet a prisoner, but this… why was this little girl locked away in such a place? It was repulsive. Sampson caught her eye, his face troubled.

  “Netta is a prisoner here,” he said. “Her parents were both cursed with powers and members of the rebellion. They were executed a few months back.”

  Lillana looked to the girl, watched the smallest flicker of emotion cross her face before she slipped back behind a passive mask. “Is she even…old enough? To have powers?” It was becoming difficult to breathe.

  Sampson shook his head. “It’s a possibility. Everyone shows their power at different ages. Some show them when they are young, others when they are much older. Netta hasn’t shown a sign of such power, but she is kept here as a precaution. She is not alone. She sleeps in a cell with others like her. They are given the bare minimum to survive and many are subjected to…tests.”

  Lillana narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  Sampson sighed. “It is only natural some would want to know about the powers they possess. What causes them? What triggers those abilities to manifest in an individual? If put under certain stressors, could it be forced? I’m sure you can work out what kind of testing they do for that.”

  “She is just a child,” Lillana choked. “M-my family sanctions this?” She gave a quick glance to Netta, seeing if recognition would flash in those eyes. It didn’t.

  Sampson nodded. “Yes. Your mother has a particular interest in these tests, especially after what happened with your brother. If there were a way to root out the affliction in a child before it became a problem, just imagine. A world free of the cursed.”

  My brother… She shuddered to think of him, of what had become of him. A monster, no more than a beast. She blocked out the memory, tried to forget the gleam in his eyes before her father had been forced to drag a knife across his throat. Those were terrible times, hidden times.

  Netta squirmed, a tiny hand rubbing at her eyes. Sampson glanced at her. “Netta, are you tired?”

  The girl nodded and stifled a yawn. “Yes, sir. Lenny cried all night.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Let me take you back. It sounds like you could use a nap.” Sampson slid his chair back, rising and helping Netta down
off the chair. “I’ll be back in just a moment.”

  Netta turned around as they walked away. She raised her free hand, gave Lillana a little wave and a shy smile. Lillana felt her heart snap in two. She flared with anger. The rebels, those she could understand. Those that had caused harm, disrupted life for others, they deserved punishment. Netta… she was just a child. How long would they keep her, experiment on her? At what point would they decide her powers wouldn’t manifest? When would it stop? She was shaking when Sampson slipped back into the room, her heart a hollowed pit of rage and shame.

  “Lillana, are you well?” he asked as he shut the door. “You look pale.”

  “How long has this been going on? How long has my family been torturing children?” Sampson was quiet, his lips drawing into a tight line. He sat down, reaching out his hands towards her. She refused to do the same. “How…long?” she demanded, fighting back the tears that stung her eyes.

  “It was before what happened to your brother. The efforts were reignited after that incident though. Hundreds of children go through this each year. Those that show a manifestation of powers are tested and then killed, often in brutal manners. They are often too young for a public display.”

  Lillana ground her teeth. If her heart was glass, his words were the hammer and they shattered it into a million pieces. “Sampson, I didn’t know. I didn’t…”

  “That’s why I showed you. Your mother and father live by the belief that those cursed with powers are born wicked, that they are evil from the very moment they take a breath in this world. They fail to see the human, the child within each of them. They refuse to understand, to see. They fear them, but they do not respect them, and it is costing this city its humanity. Our humanity.”

  It was too much to take in, too much to think about. “This must stop. I can’t. How am I to sleep at night knowing this happens? How can I? What can I do?” she sobbed, stripping the mask off her face. She held her head in her hands, hiding herself from Sampson. He didn’t need to see this moment of weakness. There was the scrape of his chair on the stones and then he was there, his arm wrapping around her.