by Lori Hyrup
Aria answered, “We need to notify the Order of the Talon garrison in Valmont. They’ll probably send some of their people in pursuit of the shard beasts while at the same time passing the message to Valgate, the capital of Aelland. Valgate’s garrison is much larger than Valmont’s. I assume they’ll also send some troops in pursuit and pass word to the emperor in Aloazai.”
“How many people would Valmont send?” the Guardian asked.
“Their garrison is small,” Aria answered. “So they probably wouldn’t send more than maybe a hundred. Valgate could probably send ten times that much if the need warranted it. Aloazai can send thousands if necessary.”
Zephyron stepped back and turned to survey the field. “How long would it take word to reach Valgate and for their forces to make their way toward Haan?”
“A messenger riding hard to Valgate could get word there in two or three days,” Aria responded. “The forces there would have to mobilize and then march out. I suspect it would take them at least a week and a half, probably close to two to reach where we are now. Aloazai is much farther.”
Zephyron sighed. Aria noted the conflict etched on his face. He looked to Kharra, and she gave him a slight nod. Zephyron said, “That’s too long, and seeing what was done here, there’s no way a small force from Valmont will have a chance against whatever attacked Prince Kiem’s camp.”
Zephyron glanced at the other kruusta. “Targus, could you ride to the garrison in Valmont and inform them of what transpired here? The three of us will pursue these creatures and hopefully locate Prince Kiem and his people.”
Aria winced inwardly, but the arrogant retort never came. Still holding a bloody rag to his shoulder and favoring his left leg, Targus gave a resigned sigh and nodded.
“Who in Tanoria are you?” Targus asked. After fighting side by side with the Guardian, even the arrogant Targus understood Zephyron was no commoner.
“I’m just a friend,” Zephyron answered. “My name’s Zephyron, and this is Kharra,” he said with a gesture. “We’re trying to help your prince. Now please, it’s paramount that you inform the garrison in Valmont and get yourself healed.”
Targus nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry for how I reacted earlier.” He turned to Kharra. “And please, forgive me. I didn’t realize what I was doing when I struck you. My actions were unacceptable.” At Kharra’s gentle smile and nod of acceptance, Targus turned back to Zephyron. “Few common folk know how dangerous shard beasts truly are. It’s a kruusta’s responsibility to keep them from getting themselves killed, but you’re not common folk.”
“I’m just a fighter,” answered Zephyron. “But those shard beasts are getting farther and farther away from us. We need to leave now, and we need you to get word to others about this incident.”
Targus nodded again. “Agreed. Good luck to you,” he said and extended his arm out to Zephyron. The Guardian took it and the two shook. Dropping Zephyron’s arm, Targus asked, “Do you need my horse? I did not see another mount.”
“No, we’re fine,” Zephyron responded. “But if you could, please leave word with the Wild Mercer that we’ll be out for a few days.”
“Very well,” Targus said as he turned. His eye caught Aria’s. He actually blushed a little bit but just nodded at her as he collected his horse, which was grazing a short distance away. The kruusta mounted and, with a wave to the party, kicked his horse into motion.
With Targus out of sight, Aria sagged. She tried to brush it off with a display of levity, chuckling lightly to herself, but the attempt cost her. She winced.
Both Zephyron and Kharra turned their heads toward her.
“I never thought I’d see the day when Targus was humbled. Sadly, arrogance among kruustas is not uncommon.”
“You never were,” said Zephyron.
Aria sighed, her smile fading. Her gaze fell to a small bloodstained patch of grass. “For much of our lives, kruustas live a very solitary existence. We have powers and abilities no one else has, and we do a job no one else can do, that no one else wants to do. Facing down monsters that frighten other people is what we have to look forward to every day. Then at the end of it all, we know that each of us has a destiny to become monsters ourselves. Common people want nothing to do with us until we are needed to save someone or something.”
Kharra stepped up beside Aria and rubbed her arm. “That type of existence,” the young woman began, “does a number on a person’s mental health. Each of you learns to deal with it in your own way. Some, like Targus, they need to be validated and acknowledged by others. Yet I suspect that there are others, like you, who wrap themselves up in their duty and accept their isolation.”
Aria looked down at Kharra and patted the woman’s hand. “At times it kills me that people fear me, that I am so different. I remind myself that I do this so others can live without fear and the constant threat of danger. I’ve long since accepted my destiny. We each have our roles to play.”
Aria shook herself. “Now let’s get going while the trail’s still fresh, and thank you for helping. I know it pains you to divert from your own mission.”
Zephyron smiled. “It’s the right thing to do.”
11
THE TRAIL OF BLOOD
The shard beasts had no reason for stealth, so following the trail proved quite easy. It was early afternoon when the trail connected to the Rajeen Highway, the major road linking the province of Aelland to Haan.
Zephyron slowed his pace and sniffed at the ground with his sensitive nose. A snarl escaped his throat. Kharra leaned over his shoulder and grimaced. Aria dismounted to more closely inspect their discovery. It was a forearm. Shredded flesh and splintered bone protruded from under both the coat sleeve and the mail at what should have been an elbow. Aria rolled the limb over with her toe revealing the brass single-star insignia of an Order of the Rose officer on the cuff of the blood-encrusted white sleeve.
Aria looked at her companions. In his tigron form, Zephyron gave no expression. Kharra’s, however, mirrored Aria’s own apprehension. Without a word Aria climbed back onto Xierex’s back and nudged him into motion.
Aria rubbed her fingers in circular motions around her temple in an attempt to push away the dull throbbing that persisted behind her eyes. Perhaps exhaustion had caused the headache, or maybe it had to do with drawing upon so much power during the fight with the fogbeast.
“Here, take this,” Zephyron said, offering Aria his waterskin. “You look dehydrated.”
Aria looked up at the Guardian, not quite focusing on his face and not quite registering what he had said. Backed against the firelight of their campfire, his face lingered in shadow, but a halo of some sort shimmered about him, not unlike those that form about the sun or moon just before a rainstorm. Her eyelids felt heavy and her eyes strained. At last his words registered, and she accepted his offering with thanks.
The Guardian continued to watch her. “Are you okay?” he asked.
Aria nodded once. “Just tired, I think,” she responded. She lifted up the waterskin. “And thirsty.”
“I’m not surprised,” Kharra added from her spot beside the fire. “I don’t know what ability that was you used today, but I felt the toll it was taking on you. That was a lot of power you were wielding.” Kharra shook her head slightly. “I’m actually surprised you haven’t already fallen over. I’m practiced with the powers of the mind, and even I find that sustained level of activity exhausting. In some ways it’s even more draining than physical activity.”
“I was connected to Valmont’s shard. I didn’t ask for it or reach for it. The shard itself connected to me.”
Kharra nodded. “I can detect the difference in you when you’re connected to one.”
Aria sighed. “I don’t know what this new relationship is that I have to the shards, but I think I prefer the use of my blade. It’s far less taxing.”
Zephyron sat back down in his spot beside the low fire, a wry grin on his face. Aria raised an eyebrow at him. His
grin grew larger, and he shook his head. “You sound just like I did when I first began my training as a Guardian.”
Aria smirked at him but then grinned back, if wearily. The Guardian’s lighthearted nature was infectious. She looked down at her hand. The silvery-white tendrils had grown thicker, looking almost like a giant spider web weaving up and under her sleeve. Her time continued to grow shorter.
Zephyron and Kharra both watched her as her smile faded, each of their faces unreadable. Had they discussed the method with which they would eliminate her when the time came? She hoped so. While the shard beast they fought together was deadly, it still did not measure up to a converted krumetus. As far as Aria knew, no shard beast was more powerful than a kruusta who had finished their conversion. Death always soon followed such an event.
Late afternoon on the second day of hard riding, the trio reached the outskirts of Tara Gol, a village of middling size with a population somewhere between that of Murali and Braylore. The people of Haan were a reserved lot, always protective and slightly distrustful of lowlanders. Still, there should have been at least some activity along the road or around the buildings as Aria and her companions walked into town.
“I don’t like this,” Aria whispered, though her voice sounded loud to her ears.
Kharra shook her head. “I sense nothing.”
“Let’s spread out,” Aria suggested. The other two nodded, each heading off in a different direction.
Aria tied Xierex to a hitch outside the Silverstone Inn and summoned her krusword. A chill swept through her as its power flushed through her body. With her empty hand, she pushed open the inn’s door. It caught against an overturned chair. Aria nudged the door open farther with her foot, keeping her sword ready, and she stepped into the dark interior of the building. She did not see anyone, living or dead, but it was clear a fight had taken place within. Most of the benches and tables were overturned. Multiple ale pitchers dotted the floor, broken, and nearly every keg was smashed. Aria noticed the lack of liquid in or around any them.
Aria moved to the hearth in the back of the room. With the brisk mountain air, one would assume a hearth would be kept warm, but this one had not been lit in some time. She inspected the kitchen next. Like the hearth, the oven coals were cold. She moved back out into the common room. From the sunlight trickling in through the front windows, she noticed a few strands of a spider’s web connecting the kitchen’s door with the inn’s bar. She ran her fingers along the bar top, taking away a layer of dust. She stared at her fingers and frowned.
Aria moved up the stairs to the inn’s second floor, checking each room she passed. Still, she found no one, but she did find more chaos like she had seen in the common room. In some rooms the sheets were shredded. In others beds were overturned. In two, vanities were shattered. Finding no answers and acquiring only more questions, Aria departed the inn.
Kharra stepped carefully through the front door of the medium-sized home.
“Hello?” she called, even as she scanned the vicinity with both her mind seeking and empathy.
Kharra looked through the front room, the dining area, and the kitchen. She found no people, but evidence suggested a struggle—window glass covered the floor, as did splintered tables, shredded chairs, smashed plates, and broken pottery.
Kharra climbed the steps on the opposite side of the front room. “Hello?” she called again. With each room she checked above, she found only the same chaos as below. She paused in a doorway as something red caught her eye. She reached down beneath the shredded footboard of the bed and pulled free a small doll with a red dress. Then she realized the dress was not red but rather stained with blood.
Kharra stood there and closed her eyes as the haunting memories from four years before rushed back to her, memories she had long thought defeated.
“Calim! Bette!” she called. There was no answer. She looked in the front room, in the dining room, and in the kitchen. There was no sign of her parents, but there had been a struggle. Tables and chairs were overturned. Glass from the windows littered the floor. Pottery and plates were shattered. She ran upstairs, taking two steps at a time.
Kharra blinked tears away as she fought back against the memories.
At last, under a pile of five bodies, she found Bette. Her skirt was bloody and torn and half her face blackened from a blow. Tears filling her eyes and her throat swelling, Kharra pulled Bette free from the others and dragged her lifeless body over toward Calim. She barely made it to Calim before she sank to the ground beside the two people who had taken her in and raised her after her mother had died. Kharra screamed as loud as she could and then screamed some more.
Kharra ground her teeth, but the memories continued flooding back unbidden.
“How did we miss one?” one of them asked.
“I don’t know,” another responded. “But we better capture her and put her with the rest before Xareen finds out.”
Kharra looked at each of them. “Why?” she shouted at them. “Why did you do this? What have we done to you?”
“It’s not about what you’ve done. It’s about what you’re worth.”
“You didn’t have to kill them!”
“The ones who are dead are the ones who resisted. Come along quietly before you end up the same.”
Three of the seven men approached, each with their swords drawn, while the other four remained with their horses. Kharra stared at them, trembling with both grief and rage. “Why!”
Kharra trembled, and the boards of the floor and walls began to shake in response, a little at first and then with growing intensity.
The crackling flames swallowing the surrounding buildings responded to her, flaring up even higher into the sky. The heat licked her skin, and she welcomed it. She lashed out mentally at anything and everything in the area, wanting to inflict the same pain on them that she felt in her heart.
Kharra’s lip curled to a snarl as she fought back against the horrible images assaulting her mind.
Just the leader remained. Fear filled his eyes, uncertain from where the next attack would come. He turned to flee, but a horse reared and kicked him to the ground. Scrambling backward, trying to get out of the way of its flailing hooves, he spared a glance at Kharra. “What are you?” he yelled with wide-eyed terror.
Kharra forced herself to take long, controlled breaths. Her trembling vanished, and the house calmed, becoming quiet once again. With a sorrowful sigh, she put the doll on the bed and left to rejoin the others.
An hour later Aria and her companions reconvened in front of the Silverstone Inn. Between the three of them, they had searched the majority of the buildings within the village proper. Like the inn, they had found no one, each building devoid of human life.
“What in the world is going on here?” Aria asked, half to herself and half to the others, hoping they had more insight to the problem than she did.
Zephyron shook his head, looking just as perplexed, and Kharra looked introspective.
“I know the shard beast trail came straight through the town, but I don’t think they stopped,” Zephyron said.
“I agree. Whatever happened to the people here wasn’t recent. Based on what you learned from Kiem last night, who knows how long ago this occurred?”
Kharra frowned. “I can’t sense shard beasts like I can humans and animals, so I can’t tell how far away they are.”
“Without a temple shard to enhance my sensing range, I’m limited to about a half mile, and unfortunately there are no nearby shard temples. There are a few farther into Haan but not in this region.” Aria frowned at her own words.
“What?” asked Kharra.
“I just realized what I said, like connecting to shards is something I do on a regular basis.”
“It’s a new ability you’re developing,” stated Kharra matter-of-factly.
“At this point in my life?” Aria retorted.
Kharra shrugged. “Latent abilities are rare but not unheard of among leyoen users.
It’s not unreasonable to think kruustas are similar. You are, after all, the oldest living kruusta. Who’s to say what you might still develop?”
Aria admired Kharra’s optimism, but her own gut told her that whatever this connection was she had to the shards, it was not something normal. She had always felt that she had more than enough power from her own personal shard. Recently though she had come to realize that some circumstances required more than she could give. As such, she appreciated the extra power when she needed it, but it also concerned her since it seemed to further accelerate her conversion. Even though she was prepared to accept her fate, she preferred it not come sooner than necessary.
Rather than responding to Kharra, Aria said, “I think we should move on.”
Both Kharra and Zephyron agreed.
The first stars were beginning to fill the dusk sky when Aria at last sensed the presence of shard beasts. “We’re getting close,” she announced. Kharra nodded in response, and both Zephyron and Xierex picked up their pace.
The group finally caught up to the shard beast pack that evening, when the three moons were at their fullest. Aria, Kharra, and Zephyron, back in his human form, observed the creatures in their unusual procession from their concealed vantage point high among the trees on a hill overlooking the road.
Aria counted fifty-six splinter maws, more than she had ever seen before in a single pack and each larger than Xierex. What Aria found even more disturbing was their organized column, each walking one in front of the other. Jagwolves were the closest of all of the shard beasts to having any semblance of organization, running in loose packs not so different from normal wolves.
“There’re people with them,” Kharra announced. “A lot of them.”
Aria and Zephyron both looked down at the shorter woman. She held her eyes closed and her head tilted slightly to the right. They then both looked back down at the long line of splinter maws. Though the distance was great, Aria saw what appeared to be people lying across the backs of the creatures. The shoulder appendages of the splinter maws kept the people in place.