The Allseer Trilogy

by Kaitlyn Rouhier

  Darik shook his head. “We didn’t. I about got knocked out when a stone came flying at my head and when the barrier fell it washed right over us. Your friends were quick to act. They got everyone they could tucked away in a corner and they’ve got a barrier up.”

  “What did you feel? Did it hurt anyone?”

  “It was terrifying, okay! I’m pretty sure I soiled myself and screamed louder than Neela when she sees a spider. Is now really the time for you to go all scholar on us? It may not have hurt us, but one of the soldiers got hit and he just doesn’t exist anymore.”

  Lillana winced. “We saw the same thing. We need to pick a room and get a barrier in place while we figure this out.”

  A strange squelching sound filled the hall and the black corruption came oozing around the corner, clinging to the floors and walls as it moved in slow, lazy waves. Lillana could feel the tension of those surrounding her as all eyes watched it slither towards them. She spun back around, throwing Sampson’s arm back over her shoulder. “Move, move! Go! First solid room you find, go in and be ready to make a barrier.”

  Neela and Darik darted past, falling in with the soldiers while she and Garild pulled Sampson along. She could feel the corruption at her back, a beast nipping at her heels, and the sensation chilled her straight through to her core. Sampson hissed in a breath, his foot catching on the ground. “Oh gods, I’m so sorry. We’re almost there. We’re almost there.”

  “Lil, stop. You can let me go. I’m slowing you down.”

  “Stop talking! That’s an order!”

  Lillana couldn’t turn her head, couldn’t look behind to see how close it was. She could feel it calling to her, a strange sort of peacefulness settling over her skin like a film, soothing the panic underneath. It was getting harder to walk, to move. She didn’t seem to be alone in her struggle. Garild was slowing too, his steps faltering.

  “This is…like…before,” Garild struggled to say, his words spoken between breaths.

  Lillana couldn’t force her lips apart to respond, her body fighting her every move. Her knees buckled and she staggered to a stop. It was close now, waves of tranquility leeching her of any fight she might have had left.

  “Help them!”

  “Stop, it’s too close! Get a barrier up!”

  A hand pressed into her back, a voice soft and low whispering in her ear. “Forgive me, Lillana.” The gentle press at her back turned into a violent shove and she tumbled forward, Garild stumbling right along with her. Weakness kept her limbs from reacting and she collided with the ground in a flurry of lace edges and terror.

  “Get the barrier up, now!” Darik shouted, his voice rising high over the chaos.

  Lillana could feel the malaise melting away, could finally recognize and respond to what had been done. She clambered to her feet, spinning around and leaping towards the barrier forming across the width of the hall. “No, no, no, no! Sampson!”

  Sampson stood on the other side, his bright blue eyes glowing from the light of the barrier. The corruption was nearly upon him and he kept his back to it, his eyes fixated on her. “It’s okay, Lil. It’ll be okay.”

  “No,” she sobbed, fist colliding with the barrier. “Go get him! Somebody help him, please.” A hand touched her shoulder and she shook it away. “Please. Sampson, I can’t do this alone. I can’t do this without you.”

  “You’re not alone,” he said. He took a step forward. “I believe in you, my Queen. You can save this place. You never needed me for that.”

  “I do need you.” Her eyes burned, the image of him wavering as tears obscured her vision, spilling over to fall down her cheeks. “Sampson, please…”

  The corruption pooled around his feet, climbing up his legs. He closed his eyes, seemingly at peace as it spread across his body. His tears mimicked her own and before it could completely consume him, he whispered a goodbye, felt rather than seen.

  An afterimage of him remained, a place where he’d once been, and then the corruption collapsed in upon itself and where once had stood a friend, a mentor, there was now emptiness. Pain, hot and sharp, wormed its way between her ribs, stabbing into her heart again and again. Breathing became an impossible task. It was too much. Too many wounds, too many hurts. How could she be a queen if this was the cost, if she couldn’t even protect the things that mattered to her the most?

  Lillana sank down, her hands pressed to the barrier, watching through blurry vision as the corruption slammed against it. Up close, it was almost beautiful, swirling with color, a sea of stars blinking in and out of existence. She hated it. She wanted to reach through and tear it apart. Nothing so beautiful should be so terrible.

  A pale hand reached for hers, gently tearing it away from the barrier. She turned her head and stared at the woman sitting next to her. Young and beautiful, her bright blue eyes filled with fear and sorrow. “I’m so sorry. Come on, we need to step back.” Lillana did not have the strength to fight. She let the girl lead her behind the others, let their fearful whispers fill her ears. “Sit,” the woman said gently, and she did as she was bade, tucking herself in the corner, her eyes unable to look away from where Sampson had been.

  Garild approached and he and the dark haired woman spoke in hushed whispers. After a moment of deliberation, the young woman knelt back down in front of her, her lips sagging into a frown. She tucked her dark curls behind her ears and cleared her throat. “Lillana, I know this is… I… Did he have powers?”

  Lillana felt a surge of anger. Why were they asking questions? Why did it matter? “He’s dead! It doesn’t m-matter anymore because he’s d-dead.” The tears came back with a vengeance, the pain in her chest an unbearable burden.

  “I’m sorry to ask. I’m so sorry. I know this hurts more than anything, but I need to know if he had powers. It’s important. It could save others.”

  A thought, dark and terrible, settled into her head. Her heart raced, a deep-rooted panic rising out of the ashes of her heart. “N-no. He didn’t have… Oh, gods.”

  Garild had gone pale, his eyes widening with her words. “Isa, the only people it’s hurt have been-“

  “-those without powers.”

  Lillana choked down her despair. “That’s the majority of Val’shar. If this is true, all of those people…”

  “We have to do something, Garild,” Isa said. “This could be a massacre if we don’t stop it.”

  He nodded. “Let’s go meet up with the others. We’ll need all the power we can get if we’re going to protect these people.”

  “You’ll help? You’ll help protect them, even though they hate us?” Lillana asked. She couldn’t expect that of them, not after what her people, her city, had put them through.

  “We’re not just going to sit by while hundreds of people die. What they did to us was horrible, but we’re not going to just watch them die because of it. If anything is going to unite us, it’ll be this.”

  “We’ve all got a lot of atoning to do,” Darik said gently. “I’m sorry we couldn’t save Sampson. Let’s not fail him by letting Val’shar fall. We’re with you.”

  “You’re not alone,” Neela added.

  And collectively, her soldiers saluted.

  I’m not alone.

  CHAPTER 22

  Samira stood on the deck of a swaying ship, eyes fixed on the horizon, waiting for the glittering spires of Korinth to come into view. It had been many years since she’d stepped foot in the land of her birth. She’d grown content with the thought of never returning, not unless it were necessary, and she’d found herself enough trouble to make it so.

  “Are you prepared for this, Samira? It’s been a long time,” Barog said, breaking the silence. He leaned against a pile of crates, his expression somber.

  “No. How can I be prepared for something like this? They’ve been waiting for this moment a long, long time. I wouldn’t exactly expect a warm welcome when we arrive.”

  “Ah, greeted with threats. Korinth hasn’t changed a bit.”

&
nbsp; “Nor will it ever,” Samira sighed, her breath lost to the wind ruffling her hair and caressing her exposed skin.

  “You know,” Barog grinned, looking her over from head to toe. “You look like a goddess, risen again to scold her most unruly subjects.”

  She’d changed out of the dull and colorless fashion of Taverin, donning a tight-fitting dress of gold and red. Rings adorned her fingers, her hair held back by a swirling gold band. It was the one part of home she’d never been able to give up. If Korinth was good for anything, it was their fashion.

  “If anything, I’m an unwelcome pariah come back to terrorize them, and not by choice. You do remember all of these people despise me, right? Some goddess that makes me.”

  “You could be a goddess of spite. We can make that a thing.”

  “Such a charmer, Barog.”

  “I do what I can,” he grinned. “Where is that apprentice of yours? Did you lose her to the sea already?”

  Samira smirked. “I’ll go check on her. By now her dress might have caused irreparable harm.”

  “Take it easy on the girl. Your fashion is…complicated.”

  “All the better,” she said with a wink before turning away and heading below deck. She came to a halt before a closed door and rapped her knuckles against the wood. A muffled grunt came from within. “You still alive in there?”

  “How do you… put…this…on?” Kirheen groaned. Something thumped from behind the door and a string of curses followed.

  “Oh gods, what have you done? Can I come in?”

  “I’m a bit…unadorned at the moment.”

  “Obviously or I wouldn’t have to offer my help.” Without waiting for a response, she slipped into the room. Kirheen yelped, making a poor attempt at covering herself with her hands.

  “Samira, what are you doing?” she hissed.

  “Oh, hush. I’ve seen my fair share of bodies. Nothing about yours is going to shock me. Quit your yapping and let me help you.” She walked towards Kirheen, surveying the tangled mess she’d made of the fabric. “How did you even - you know what, never mind. I don’t want to know. Let’s just fix this.”

  “Please.”

  “Turn around and lift up your arms.”

  Begrudgingly, Kirheen twirled away from her, all tense muscles and embarrassment. She raised her arms over her head and Samira gathered the bundle of soft fabric tangled around her neck. “I was joking about this dress trying to strangle you, but it made a good attempt.”

  “Oh, very funny.”

  Samira straightened the dress, smoothing the dark blue fabric. It was edged in bright silver, a beautiful piece they’d picked up from a fellow merchant at their last stop. “I know you’re used to running around looking like a farmer, but this really isn’t that complicated. Here,” she said, slipping the dress over her head. She grabbed Kirheen’s left arm and pulled it through the correct opening and then repeated the process with her right arm. With a quick tug, she pulled the dress down, letting it settle over her curves.

  “Why is this so tight?” Kirheen complained, glancing down at the dress. Most Korinthian fashion seemed to rely on the basis that less was more. In a land of scorching sand and sweltering heat, it was a small blessing. She’d been tempted to go for something traditional, but knowing what she did of the girl, she’d picked out more modest attire. The dark dress hugged her tightly front and back, billowing sleeves of sheer fabric falling past her elbows. Slits up the side of the dress left her more freedom to move, the front and back panels of fabric held together with delicate silver chains that crossed over her thighs.

  “Don’t complain. This is tame compared to what I could have stuck you in. You’ll be thanking me when you’re away from the sea and out in the heat. I expect it’ll take some time for the blush to fade from your cheeks when you see what everyone else is wearing.”

  “Gods, I wasn’t meant for this.”

  “Just shut up and sit down.”

  With a huff, Kirheen sat down in the nearest chair. “This is uncomfortable.”

  “Hush!”

  “Fine.”

  Satisfied with her silence, Samira plucked an intricate silver pin with a dark blue gem from the table. Pulling a bundle of ashen waves away from Kirheen’s face, she slipped the pin in place and then stepped back to survey her work. “There is no hiding where you’re from, but they’ll at least admire the attempt.”

  “And what about the others? Are they forced to endure this level of torture?”

  “No, just you dear. Mirin absolutely refuses to wear anything but what she’s in now and Trista is staying with the ship. And if those footsteps are any indication…”

  “N-no! He can’t see me like this,” Kirheen fretted, standing to pace the room. “He can’t. He will never let me live this down.”

  Samira smirked, her brow rising. “You’ll get a response with that dress, but I don’t think it’s the one you’re thinking it will be.” She stepped back out of the way as the door swung open and Tomias stepped into the room. He was wearing a well-made sleeveless tunic of the same dark blue as Kirheen’s dress, edged in shimmering silver.

  “I don’t know about yours, Kir, but these clothes are actually-” Kirheen stood in the corner, arms draped awkwardly around her waist. Her eyes were pinned to the floor, avoiding eye contact with the man that had just had his breath stolen. Tomias had stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening as he surveyed her. “Oh,” he managed to breath. “I…um…well…”

  “Just…stop looking,” Kirheen groaned, hands rising to cover her reddening cheeks.

  Samira flashed Tomias a knowing smile. “I’ve business elsewhere,” she said. “Please don’t forget your sandals. If you can’t figure those out, there really is no helping you.”

  The distraction of helping Kirheen had been too temporary. As she walked back up top, her head was filled with memories, with thoughts. Carefully stitched wounds were reopening, old hurts she hadn’t managed to fully heal. Korinth had been her home. In some small way, it still was, even if she was a traitor to her own people, even if they hated her. A salty sea breeze greeted her as she rejoined Barog and she breathed deeply. Her eyes moved to the horizon, settled on a shimmering beacon far off in the distance.

  “It’s coming into view now. Won’t be much longer,” Barog said, pointing a finger towards the distant land mass. “I’m actually feeling a bit nervous.”

  “I’ll protect you,” Samira said, though she didn’t feel the humor in her own words. “Just remember, if anything goes wrong, if they decide to attack while my back is turned, you leave. Don’t risk your life, and the life of your crew, and your pretty red head on our behalf. We’ll steal a damned ship if we have to, but at the first sign of trouble, I want you gone.”

  “What is this about a pretty red head?”

  Samira snorted. “You must truly think me an idiot if you think I haven’t noticed the way you look at Trista.”

  “Not an idiot, Samira, just nosey. Let a man have his pleasures.”

  “Oh, you can have it all you like, that is if you can win it in the first place.”

  “She’s here, isn’t she?” he grinned. “She had a chance to flee.”

  “I’m sure you’ll make her regret the fact that she didn’t.”

  “Samira.”

  “Yes?”

  She expected a retort, some witty come back that only Barog could provide. Instead, he reached out his hand, entwining his fingers with hers. His hand was warm and calloused, the rough skin a strange sort of comfort. “All will be well, my dear friend,” he said softly. “All will be well.”

  She stood with him, hand in hand, while they watched the grand city of Korinth come into view. And in her head, she could still hear the screaming, the clash of blades on blades. The civil war was years past, but it continued to be relived in her mind. She could feel the sand digging into her skin, the warm sticky wetness of blood coating her arms, her brothers lifeless body cradled against her chest. And a burning
fire rising from within, smothering out her pain and filling her with rage, with power great enough to burn it all down.

  CHAPTER 23

  “You look…beautiful,” Tomias whispered. Kirheen felt a warmth spread through her body as his fingertips danced across the crystals on her chest. “Powerful.” His hands found her waist and he tugged her forward, lips meeting hers. There was hunger there, a desire, and while Kirheen’s body reacted in kind, her mind reeled from the contact. It was still there, a secret that wouldn’t let her forget, and it certainly wasn’t going to let her forgive.

  Lips trailed a line of fire down her neck while her heart grew colder and colder, and she stiffened in his grasp. His lips slowed, hesitated. “Kir?”

  “Stop.”

  He pulled away from her, hands still holding her waist, eyes failing to hide the hurt and concern brewing beneath the surface. She wanted to push him away, to love him, to kiss him, to make him go away. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “You know. You know and I can’t let it go. I can’t. This question is like a noose and I’m just waiting for you to kick the chair out from under me.” Tomias pulled away, hands running across the stubble on his cheeks and chin. An aggravated growl rumbled from within his chest and Kirheen couldn’t help but be stung by it. “What do you have to be upset about? I’m not the one keeping secrets!”

  “And do you know what that’s like? This thing, this feeling, it just keeps festering. I feel it. You feel it. And do you know what it’s like to want so badly to fix it? I have the answer you want in my head, on the tip of my tongue, and yet to tell you feels like the greatest hurt I could ever inflict. I don’t want to hurt you, Kir, and damn it, I’m scared. I’m afraid to tell you and afraid to not, and if I lose you to either, the lie or the truth, I’ll be devastated.”

  Every word he spoke, the pain and the struggle of what he wanted so desperately to say, was all true. There were no shadows to his words, but the lie remained, a thorn stabbing her in the side. It wasn’t fair – not to her, not to him. She needed the truth more than she needed anything. “You don’t get to decide what’s good for me, Tomias! Whatever it is you know, I deserve to know it. I think I know the answer, but I need to hear it from your lips, I need you to not keep things from me! I need you to trust me with the truth, to trust that I’ll be able to handle it.”