The Allseer Trilogy

by Kaitlyn Rouhier

  “And leave you all here like sitting ducks? I don’t think so. She’ll come back. She has to, otherwise we’ll be tracking down Elfrind ourselves.”

  “I don’t think we’d survive that outcome, so I’m just going to keep my fingers crossed and hope for the best here.”

  “Always the optimist,” Kirheen muttered. She took a few cautious steps away from the side of the ship, putting distance between her and the remaining soldiers.

  Tomias shrugged. “It’s gotten us this far.”

  “Well, guess it’s time to test how far that optimism will take us,” she replied. With nothing left to do but wait, she turned her attention to the city looming overhead, golden spires reflecting the bright midday sun. Black sand glittered on the nearby shores, looking like thousands of stars. Her thoughts drifted to the gods, to Zekar. Did he truly desire such chaos, to leave the world with nothing but those like herself, with cities like Korinth? She tried to imagine a world without people like Trista, a world filled with nothing but power, a world where that shaped everything. It was what Korinth desired, to see a world where power dominated the weak, elevating those lucky enough to wield it to god-like heights.

  Stop him, a voice rang from within. Before it is too late.

  I will, she replied, not believing her own words. She clung to that small hope, to that small possibility that they’d actually succeed, that they’d stop Elfrind in time. It was the only thing keeping her afloat. Who are you? she asked the voice.

  She was met with silence and somehow that seemed worse than an answer. Dread wound its way up her limbs, coiling around her neck and squeezing tight. And closer than before, she could hear a song calling to her, tempting her towards a different path. She could hear his voice in her ear, his desperate plea as he begged for her power. You won’t have it, she called, letting the force of her power echo across the sands, matching his song with one of her own.

  CHAPTER 27

  Home.

  It felt so strange to be back after so long, after so many years spent yearning for the smells and sounds igniting her senses. A beautiful song fluttered through an open window, the sweet melody filling the streets. The smell of spices from a nearby market set her mouth to watering, and it took all of her willpower not to turn down a side street. She wanted to see stalls bursting with exotic foods, and beautiful cloth in a rainbow of colors, the fine jewelry crafted to be delightful and bold. This was Korinth. This was her city.

  So much light and color. Gods, how I’ve missed it. Even the soldiers pressing in close on either side of her couldn’t ruin its beauty.

  They passed a bright wall embellished with colorful pieces of glass, and Samira’s joy curdled like soured milk. She glanced over the various colors and designs as they passed, her eyes drawn to a familiar piece swirling with various shades of blue. Though faded, paint still clung to the surface, two small handprints placed side by side. Regret rose like bile, burning her throat, forcing tears to life. So many years had passed since he’d died in her arms, died because of her, because of the powers she possessed.

  Naree’na slowed her pace, her strides shortening until she was shoulder to shoulder with Samira. She kept her bright eyes straight ahead, not daring to look her way. “You should not be here,” she warned under her breath. “How long has it been since you fled? You’ve not aged a day.”

  Samira had not changed physically since she’d left Korinth behind, but Naree’na had not been so lucky. Lines had appeared where stress had taken its toll; around her full lips, between her furrowed brows, under her beautiful bright blue eyes. She was still stunning, but it was striking to see the difference between them. Was she just standing still while time marched ever onwards? Would she never know death? “I would not be here if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. I told you that.”

  Unable to keep her gaze away, Naree’na turned her eyes to Samira. She was struck by the anger in those crystalline depths, the hurt, and the words that followed were filled with bitterness. “You’re a fool. What would be so important that you’d come here? It is idiocy at its finest. The Spears hate you, Samira. They fear you.”

  “Then they are welcome to stop me, and we can watch the world collapse around us. We can watch it all fall. It would probably please them greatly to see,” Samira sneered in response. There were seeds of anger, kept dormant for so long, sprouting within her heart, and she found it difficult to control her tone, the vitriol she wanted to throw at the whole of Korinth.

  “Is it so dire, this thing you will not speak of?”

  “Yes, it is. Everything we know about this world could be destroyed. I refuse to let that happen, even if it means pleading with the Spears for their help.”

  “Then pray they are willing to listen,” Naree’na said before increasing her pace and rejoining her soldiers.

  It all felt so futile. After she’d fled, taking the collective hopes and dreams of her people with her, did she really think they’d listen to anything she had to say? The whole affair had remained a secret, talked about in hushed whispers behind closed doors. Even the rest of the world did not realize how lucky they were, did not realize the catastrophe she’d prevented by turning her back on her own people.

  They turned onto a street lined with waving banners; deep crimson with four golden spears fanned out over the surface. The Spears of Korinth. The Council. The people she’d have to convince so they could stop Elfrind once and for all.

  In the distance, steps led to a domed temple, the dome itself a beautiful orb of vibrant blue. To either side of the temple entrance stood a grand statue. One, carved of the palest stone, was a depiction of Riel. The other was carved out of dark, shimmering stone. A duality, the union of light and dark that had birthed the world. It was strange going from a land that had cast Riel as a villain to one that still openly worshipped her.

  As they climbed the steps, Samira was struck with fear, memories roiling inside of her head, threatening to pull her under. There was so much beauty and pain wrapped up in Korinth; memories of home, and love, and wonder. Of torture, and death, and awakening. It was hard to know how to feel about it all. She’d thought time would dull her pain, that it might fade like ink on aged parchment. It hadn’t. Old wounds still bled, even as time marched on. All those years had healed nothing.

  Orgol servants waited at the tops of the steps. They bowed deeply, expressions passive, and pulled open the massive carved doors leading into the central chamber of the temple. The doors made barely a whisper as they were swept open, revealing the large, high-ceilinged, blue tinged room beyond. Tiers of stone seats curved along the outer edges of the room, one half in creamy white, the other half in dark, shimmering black. The seats were filled with nobility granted the honor of watching their confrontation. They talked in hushed whispers, hands masking their words, eyes glinting with malice and curiosity.

  At the back of the room, a raised dais housed four thrones, all elegantly curved and dripping with riches. Four thrones for four pompous asses, Samira thought as she swept her gaze over the council. Only three of the thrones were occupied. In the first sat a beautiful woman with skin a shade lighter than Samira’s. Golden waves were gathered atop her head, loose curls falling to coil against her collar bone. She wore a tight-fitting dress of bright gold that looked like it had been poured onto her skin. Gold earrings and glimmering rings fat with gems caught the light, reflected color into the pools of silver eyes that regarded Samira with contempt. Samira did not recognize the woman, but there was no mistaking which council she ruled. The Council of Gold had always had a fondness for extravagance, and it seemed little had changed in her time away.

  Seated next to her was an aged man named Rinal’ru, head of the Council of Spirit. Golden hair had given way to a dull silver, and his braided beard hung to his chest, golden charms glinting as he shifted. His blue eyes were locked to the floor, not once straying to look at Samira. Gnarled fingers drummed the arms of his throne, his impatience palpable. Of all the Spears, he had the m
ost reason to hate her. The God Touched had seen it as an act of the highest treason against the creators themselves when she’d fled. In their eyes, her turning her back on her powers was akin to spitting in the face of the gods.

  The third throne was empty, reserved for the Council of Blades. Samira had assumed Naree’na had taken up that position, but when she looked to her old lover, she shook her head. The lack of their presence was enough to send a prickle of suspicion dancing along her skin. More than likely, they were out chasing down the newly awakened, or preparing to detain Samira if things went wrong, but it still made her uneasy. They were easily the biggest threat in the city, and she felt unnerved by their absence from something so important. Were they plotting an attack on the ship while she had her back turned? An attack on her? If she hoped to leave that chamber, she’d have to stay on guard and be ready for anything.

  The last throne housed the head of the Council of Sand. Another unknown, the man was old, his skin worn to a dull leather by the sand and sun. Golden eyes shone bright, more curious than cautious. A thick silver braid fell over his shoulder. On his lap, a sizeable lizard called a Komor slumbered. He stroked it gently, fingers gliding over golden scales.

  The soldiers she’d arrived with spread out, but Naree’na stayed at her side, hand resting on the hilt of her curved sword. The roomed was bathed in a tranquil blue, reflecting the dome overhead, but there was nothing tranquil about the mood of those surrounding her. Fear, loathing, anger, malice – she could feel it all. Her name had become legend, her powers exaggerated, her crimes steeped in hatred.

  It was Rinal’ru that spoke first, his thunderous voice booming in the hall. His gaze shifted to her at last, his piercing hatred felt as much as seen in his bright blue eyes. “What madness is this? You dare stand in this room? What makes you think you can stand here before us, foul creature?” Anger made his voice rise, his words laced with venom, and his accusing tone dragged across Samira’s calm like jagged talons.

  She wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of receiving an answer. “You’ve gotten old,” she replied, a smile pulling at the corner of her lips. Gasps followed, the nobility on either side of the room appalled by her words.

  “You dare insult me, you wretch!” he shouted, knuckles turning white as he squeezed the arms of his throne.

  “Now, now Rinal’ru. Don’t let her get to you,” the golden-haired woman purred. She shifted a leg over her knee, leaning forward to get a closer look at Samira. “I don’t believe we’ve met, though I’ve certainly heard many tales of your abilities. I’m Ilgar’na. As you can imagine, we’re all a touch surprised to see you here. We’d value an explanation as to why you’re here after all this time.”

  Samira had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. “To put your suspicions to rest, I haven’t come here seeking a war with you. There are things happening in this world with the potential to affect us all, and I mean to discuss it. Civilly,” she added, eyes darting to Rinal’ru.

  “Oh, we can be civil,” Ilgar’na replied, her lips pulling into a fake smile. “But, why should we listen to anything out of the mouth of a traitor?”

  There was no time for games. She was not going to do the dance that politics in Korinth required and so she shot straight to the heart of the matter. “Because what I mean to discuss will change life here in Korinth. Even now, somewhere out in the desert, someone like me has awakened. Their powers would be enough to rival mine, which is probably why the Council of Blades is mysteriously absent, and why this room is not brimming with soldiers.”

  Another round of gasps worked its way through the nobility and Ilgar’na’s eyes widened. She cleared her throat, reclining back in her seat. “Let’s make this discussion a bit more private, shall we?” she hissed, looking to the soldiers. “Clear the room.”

  Soldiers approached the nobility, ushering them out of their seats and towards the open doors. The gossip was already starting, their soft whispers alive with passionate theories. Samira smiled to herself, raising her chin to meet the stony gaze of Ilgar’na. “Oops. Guess the nobility weren’t aware of that yet.”

  “Years away have not dulled your ability to play the game, has it?”

  “Never, dear heart. Never.”

  Rinal’ru had gone red in the face, his hands shaking. Any further prodding and his heart were likely to burst from the pressure. “This is preposterous! We’ll not listen to the ramblings of a traitor.”

  The man at the end of the row was smiling. The lizard resting on his lap had opened a golden eye, regarding her wearily as its master spoke. “You seem well informed for someone that just stepped onto our shores. Perhaps you would like to enlighten us as to where you discovered such knowledge?”

  “I can feel the awakened. You seem to forget the depths of this power you all so crave. I can also feel the very threat I came to warn you about stalking across the desert right now.”

  “What do you mean? What threat?”

  “There is another. From Taverin. He’s gone a little mad and is slinging corruption around, corruption with a tendency to erase those without power out of existence. I’ve come here to stop him, with or without your help.”

  “I’m sorry… there are… three of you?”

  “Four.”

  Glances were exchanged, positions shifted. “This is troubling news,” Ilgar’na said. “We knew of the awakened here in Korinth. He’s young and afraid. It is imperative that we find him so we can help him.”

  “You mean torture, corrupt, and turn him into your personal war hound?”

  “He is of great interest to our country – for the defense of our country - but only if he is willing. We made that mistake once. We wouldn’t want to repeat it,” Ilgar’na spat. “But who is this third you speak of? And dare you claim a fourth?”

  “Madness,” Rinal’ru said with a shake of his head, chimes filling the air with gentle noise. “Impossible.”

  “You don’t get details. We don’t have time for them. The man from Taverin has powers like me, maybe even greater. He’s after your precious gem out in the desert hoping he can steal his power. If that happens, even I won’t be able to stop him. And if I can’t stop him, he’ll have the power to wipe out any person without powers, including your servants and workers. My, I can’t imagine you scrubbing floors, Ilgar’na.”

  “Silence!” she commanded, eyes narrowed. “These are rather wild claims you’re making. What proof do you bring?”

  Samira shook her head. “Do you want me to sacrifice one of your servants to prove my point? Gods, you all deserve for this to happen. As it stands, the Nilgorinth do not. I’m going to go stop him, your help be damned. I’ve no time left for this dance.”

  “You will not!” Rinal’ru said, rising from his chair. Samira could feel a slight stirring of his powers, a meek and dying flame within an aging body. It was enough to distract her, to draw her attention for a brief moment and so, when the snap of a bow filled the air, it was already too late.

  She hadn’t even begun to turn when the tip of an arrow punctured through the front of her chest. She tried to gasp, her lung refusing to inflate with her sharp intake of breath. Instead she was greeted by pain, an explosion of fire rippling outwards from her chest. She spun to defend herself, but another arrow was already streaming through the air, too fast to stop. The tip of the arrow collided with the crystals on her chest, sending up a flurry of noise and sparks. There was a sharp snap as part of the crystals broke off, the arrow deflected and sent clattering across the floor.

  Samira watched as the broken crystal fragment connected with the floor, shattering into hundreds of tiny, glittering shards. Another arrow took her in the leg, dropping her awkwardly to one knee. There was a pressure building in her head, a strange sort of heat that grew and grew. In the doorway stood a man in gold and red, a bow held steady in his grasp. He swam in her vision, the details of him lost in the murky depths of her tears.

  Another sharp breath had her coughing blood. It would n
ot kill her. She’d suffered worse during the time they’d experimented on her, but the pain – nothing could make that less real. Raising a shaking hand, she formed a barrier around herself, drawing it in tight, letting it build with power.

  “Tir’ro, what is the meaning of this?” came the voice of Naree’na, heavy with concern. “What are you doing?”

  “Ending a threat.” The reply was low, guttural. Footsteps drew near but the pain was overwhelming, keeping her from looking at her foe. She looked to the arrow sticking out of her chest, considered ripping it out, only to find her attention moving to a black substance dripping from the largest of the broken crystals on her chest. Corruption oozed from the wound, dripping to the floor where it condensed into a ball.

  “No!” Out of options, Samira did the only thing she could and let her powers loose.

  CHAPTER 28

  Kirheen paced, her footsteps taking her to the far end of the ship and back again. Tomias sat on a crate, his eyes following her restless pacing. She wasn’t alone. Barog had picked a path as well, his steps heavy, eyes darting to the soldiers waiting on the docks with each pass.

  The others were safely tucked below, hunkered down and waiting for the worst to happen. Unable to take the silence any longer, Kirheen spoke. “Barog, what are the Spears?”

  “Bunch of pompous bastards,” he spat. “They are the ruling body of Korinth. You’ve got the Merchant Council, the God Touched, the Council of the Blade, and the Council of the Sand. They each handle various aspects of life here and ensure life for those without powers is downright miserable.”

  “What do you mean? What is it like for them?”

  “Not great. They are known as Nilgorinth, and in the eyes of the powerful, they are little more than servants and pests. The Orgol are slaves, but the people aren’t treated much better, they just have a little more freedom to choose what they do with their lives.”