“I am unbonded,” she said.
“Indeed? Then that is what you are here for. You are looking for your quest, your purpose. You’re looking for a new bond.”
“That’s not why I’m here,” she said, shaking her head.
“Then why are you here, Imogen, First of the Blade?”
She tensed. She hadn’t told him her title, or the one she once carried, but as she looked across the fire at him, she realized that Benji the Elder must know even more than she thought.
The Porapeth were rumored to have visions, similar to the prophecies of the El’aras, another magical race of beings that looked human like the Porapeth. She had never known whether it was true that Porapeth had visions of the future. They had magic, that much was clear, but not the kind of magic that sorcerers or El’aras possessed. Theirs was a distinct kind that manifested in unique and unsettling ways.
Such as this.
“I have not gone by that name,” she said.
“It seems that you have.” He flashed a smile and stole a quick glance at Timo before looking back at her. “I’ve heard rumors. Perhaps they are nothing more than that, but they carried to my ears nonetheless. Rumors of the First of the Blade. Rumors of a fearsome sword fighter. Rumors of chains that need to be broken.”
“I’m afraid that is not me.”
He laughed again, and he shook his head. “No. I would never accuse you of being this Chain Breaker.” His brow furrowed, and a darkness clouded it for a moment that passed in an instant. “But I do wonder if perhaps the First of the Blade has a part to play in all these things.”
“I did. I played it.”
“And you think that now that you are unbonded you no longer have a role in this?”
She sat back, staring at the fire.
Before she had left, she would have felt the need to return to her homeland the moment her bond quest had been completed. She had wanted nothing more than to serve, finish her bond quest, and return to offer her people whatever help she could. The bond quest would prove she wasn’t a failure like she’d felt in the temple.
Now, given what she had seen of the world, Imogen no longer knew if that was what she wanted. She no longer knew if that was what she needed. She might not even be invaluable for the Leier any longer.
“I don’t know,” she said.
He chuckled again. “A wise answer. I find that wisdom is understanding what you don’t know and then looking for answers, rather than pretending to know and bluffing your way through. We have too many fools in the world the way it is.”
“And what are you?” Imogen asked.
“Me? Well, fuck. You know what I am.”
“You are Benji the Elder.”
“You’re damn right I am,” he said. He laughed and leaned back, patting his leg. “And the two of us are going to have such an interesting time.”
“Are we?”
“I have seen it.” He winked at her, scooted back, and curled up on the ground again.
Imogen stared at him for a long moment, wondering what the Porapeth had seen of her, and what that might involve.
“Have you seen anything with the Sul’toral?” she asked.
Benji looked at her, and they locked eyes for a long moment. “I have often seen them. They long ago embraced a dark and dangerous power, seeking what they should not have.”
Imogen nodded. She knew the stories. She didn’t know how true they were, though given how stories of the Sul’toral had turned out to be truer more often than not, she suspected they were all fairly accurate.
“They want to access the power of Sarenoth,” she said.
“Perhaps. Or perhaps they are after something else. What can I say? I can’t always see clearly.” He winked again.
“Have you seen any sign of Sul’toral around here?”
“Not clearly.”
She couldn’t tell if that bothered him, or if he was keeping something from her. Either way, she had a feeling that he knew more than what he was saying.
He was a Porapeth, and that meant he was connected to the world in ways she could not even comprehend. What if he had come here to coerce them into taking a different path—to push them into another bond quest?
Chapter Eight
Interlude
Storms rumbled around the village, with an energy that filled the air. Imogen had been feeling the power of the storms for the better part of the last few days, and she grew weary of the constant rain. In the month since she had claimed the title of First after defeating Hutan, she had gained a measure of respect that she didn’t have before. It came mostly from her skill, but also from the fact that none of the other Firsts had defeated her in sparring in the time since she had reached her promotion.
Imogen had stood and watched at the edge of the courtyard, continuing to wait for a challenger. Most did not present themselves for testing unless they believed themselves capable of winning. A Second several years older than her had come to the courtyard one evening, but he had chosen to challenge Kor—a skilled First, but one more likely to fall.
Kor was talented enough. The other fighter, a Second that Imogen had handled easily when she had still been a Second, ultimately succeeded. When it was done, Elder Wurant presented the man with his blade.
The rain poured down, giving everything an unpleasant quality, and Imogen decided that she wanted to return to her home and get out of the weather.
As she made her way past the elder, he tipped his head politely to her. “If I might have you accompany me, Imogen Inaratha.”
She frowned. Her time was usually spent training, sparring, and preparing. That was the role of the village sword fighter.
She followed him in the rain, making her way through the village. Every so often, a burst of lightning would explode, revealing the mountains in the distance, followed by a clash of thunder. Imogen didn’t mind the storms. There were some in the village who didn’t care for them, but she was not one. The storms seemed to call to a greater power. She believed they did, and she could feel that something within them was meant to call to her.
It was almost as if the gods were speaking to her.
They reached the elder hall, and she stepped inside, rain dripping off her. Elder Wurant took a towel from the young man standing near the door and dried himself off, then nodded to Imogen. It was more pomp than she was accustomed to, though she accepted the towel and dried herself as well. She frowned at the elder.
Only then did she realize that there was another person in the room.
They were seated in front of the hearth, the flame crackling and pushing out a warm heat. A thin haze followed it, as if the storm did not want to accept all the smoke that billowed from the chimney. The man looked over to her, his beard neatly trimmed and matching the flat gray color of his eyes. She had never seen him before.
“What is this about, Elder Wurant?” she asked.
“Take a seat, Imogen Inaratha,” the older man near the hearth said, motioning to a chair across from him.
Imogen glanced over to the elder, but he had moved to the back of the room, which told her that the reason for her invitation was this older man. She took a seat, her heart pounding. She wasn’t sure why it was, only that she felt a twinge of anxiety at his presence.
Could this be a different village elder?
“I understand that you have recently gained promotion to First of the Blade,” the man said, his gaze drifting almost casually to her sword.
Imogen nodded.
“And so young.”
“It was earned,” she said.
“No doubt,” he replied. “I hear you challenged Hutan.”
Was that what this was about? Did he know Hutan? Or maybe he was upset because she had chosen to challenge Hutan rather than someone else. Hutan had not shown any irritation with her choice to challenge him. He had agreed to it, which was all she had needed.
“I did,” she said.
“He is quite skilled.”
Imogen no
dded. “He is.”
“Which suggests that you are quite skilled, Imogen Inaratha,” the man said.
“Yes.”
A hint of a smile twisted his face. “And so modest.”
She shrugged. “I defeated the most skilled sword fighter in the village. There is no point in being modest.”
The man watched her, the sound of the fire crackling nearby their only accompaniment. Every so often, thunder would rumble, pushing out any other sounds, and then it would fade.
Finally, he leaned forward, pressing the tips of his fingers together. “How do you see yourself serving the Leier?”
She had been given that opportunity the moment she had tested and succeeded in promotion to First. She knew that. Everyone knew that.
“When I reach the appropriate age, I will present myself to the army,” she said.
It was the respectful thing to do. It wasn’t what she wanted, though. If this was another village elder, then she had to pick her words carefully.
“There is another possibility. If you want it,” he said.
She regarded him for a long moment, trying to make sense of what he was telling her. “Which temple?”
The man started to smile. “Not just modest. Clever.” He tipped his head slightly. “I am Master Liu. And I’m here to offer you an opportunity to study at the—”
“Yes.”
He blinked, the only movement he made. “You do not need to consider?”
“I want to learn. I want to be the most skilled sword fighter I can be.”
“Studying in one of the sacred temples is a different experience than what you have encountered so far. You will find that you will be tested in ways you cannot imagine.”
Imogen had a hard time thinking that she would struggle in any of the sacred temples. She didn’t know which one Master Liu served, but it didn’t matter to her. All that mattered was that she be given the opportunity to learn. To prove herself. And she had a hard time thinking it would take her long to master the sacred patterns. It never took her long.
“I’m ready,” she said.
Master Liu regarded her for a long moment. “Very good. I will make all of the arrangements.”
“How long?” Imogen asked. Timo would wonder how long she was going to be gone, and she wanted to have an answer for him.
Master Liu regarded her as if he had never heard this question before.
“How long will I be gone?” she said.
He nodded slowly. “That is up to you. All must decide how long they are willing to study the sacred patterns.”
“How long until I master them?”
This elicited another smile from him. “A lifetime.”
Chapter Nine
Morning came slowly, and Imogen sat up, realizing she’d drifted off to sleep. She looked over at the fire. The faintly glowing embers still emanated a little warmth, but not nearly as much as they had the night before. Timo rested with his back on the rock, his eyes closed and his breathing slow and regular.
Imogen shook herself fully awake. She swept her gaze around the clearing, aware of how dangerous it was that she had fallen asleep. Anything could have happened overnight. That adlet was still out there, and though she didn’t know what it might do, she had seen how quickly it worked and how dangerous it was when it clawed at someone. She could have been ripped apart before she even had a chance to wake up.
There was also still the issue of Dheleus. Controlling an adlet would require power. Toral might have the necessary power, and the Sul’toral definitely would.
Had Timo not killed the Toral outside Yoran, they could have asked more questions, but that wasn’t how Timo worked anymore. They’d have to figure out for themselves why they were using the adlet. And if there were Toral around here, she had to be prepared. Always ready.
She grabbed a strip of dried meat out of her pocket and began to chew it as she looked around the clearing. Where was Benji? The Porapeth was nowhere to be seen.
Imogen got to her feet. She dusted herself off, then pressed her fingertips together, focusing for just a moment the way she did every morning. It allowed her to center herself, to bring herself into union with the sacred patterns and be ready if she were to need them.
She had memorized each of the patterns, but there was a difference between practicing them, replicating the forms, and feeling them. Master Liu had made it quite clear that she should learn the difference, and that understanding the difference was what mattered.
It was part of the reason she meditated. If she could deepen her connection to the sacred patterns, she had to think that eventually she could come to understand them in a way she had not before, even when studying in the sacred temple.
So far, she had not had any luck.
A soft chattering nearby caught her attention, and Imogen turned, looking to the source of the sound. Her brother was still sleeping. She scurried around the rock, reaching for the hilt of her sword, but froze. Benji was leaning against a tree, whispering something to it.
“I need you to allow us to pass through here,” he was saying. “I don’t want to argue with you. Not this time. The last time, you disappointed me.”
Imogen might’ve imagined it, but she could almost feel the trees swaying, as if in answer.
“Not like that,” Benji went on. “We are not going to have that conversation again. All I want is for you to open a path. Reveal where they have gone.”
The tree swayed again, and this time, she wasn’t sure if it was from a gust of wind or if it was because of something else. Benji chuckled and patted the trunk of the tree. He turned, looking over to Imogen.
“What were you doing?” she asked, flicking her gaze over to the tree.
“I was asking for guidance,” Benji said. “Because, fuck, I don’t have any means of finding my way through this damn forest on my own. Do you?”
Imogen shook her head. “Not very well.”
“See? Neither of us knows how to make our way through this place. And I figured that the two of us—and maybe your brother, if he’s not going to be such an ass—will need some help finding our way.”
Imogen looked off to the east, her gaze following the heavily traveled path. “We had a way through the forest.”
“Why, that’s not the way you’re going to go. You and I both know that you aren’t going to sit back and do nothing with that fucking adlet out in the forest. Not if there’s something you can do.”
“What makes you think I’m not going to do anything?”
“Because I can see you, Imogen, First of the Blade.” He emphasized the word “see” in a way that left her feeling as if he could see something.
The Porapeth had magic. That was dangerous, but at the same time, not all magic was dangerous. She had come to see that in her time outside of her homeland, and had learned to recognize that there were others—others of power, and others who could access power—who were not the same danger she had believed when growing up.
“What do you see?” she asked.
He chuckled again and turned, sweeping his gaze behind him. “Why, I see your interest in finding that adlet.”
“I don’t have any interest in finding it. It didn’t kill Timo, it didn’t kill you, and—”
“You don’t know what it will kill,” he said with a shrug. “And I can see you, Imogen. I can see you don’t want a creature like that wandering untethered.”
“You want to tether it now?”
“It must be destroyed,” Benji said. “And its master must be found.”
It was even more reason for her to be concerned about a servant of the Sul’toral. There had been no sign of a Toral or of even a sorcerer, but there remained the possibility that they would come across something.
She glanced over to her brother, who stirred just a little. He was sleeping far longer than she would’ve expected, but given how injured he was, it shouldn’t surprise her that he was still sleeping.
Imogen turned back to Benji. “What
makes you think the adlet has a master?”
“The same reason you think it has one,” he said, reaching back and grabbing his shoulder. “Both of us understand the stakes here, Imogen, First of the Blade. You and I both understand what is going on and what you must do in order to ensure the safety of this forest.”
She chuckled. “I don’t care much about the safety of the forest.”
“But you do care. And I believe you would prefer to destroy something of magic. In this case, this creature is connected to magic but cannot use the magic itself.”
“Then I don’t care,” she said.
He shook his head and laughed. “Perhaps your brother will feel differently.”
She looked back toward her brother. Timo had come around and was now sitting up. His gaze shifted between the fire, her, and Benji. He furrowed his brow at the Porapeth.
“He’s still here,” Timo said.
“Did you think I would leave?” Benji asked. Despite the way he held his arm, as if unable to move it, he looked sprier than he had the night before. “I’m not going anywhere until the two of you assist me.”
“With what?”
“He wants us to remove the adlet,” Imogen explained. “I told him I wasn’t sure we were going to do that, but—”
“I will help,” Timo said.
Benji chuckled, and he started forward. “See? Even your brother recognizes that the two of you need to be part of this.”
“It has nothing to do with what I see,” Timo said, shaking his head. “I’m only here to bring down a dark sorcerer. That is my purpose.” He glowered at Imogen, practically accusing her of wanting something else.
She wasn’t about to argue with him. Not now.
She sighed. “We have to figure out a better way of attacking it, then. There was something to its skin that made it incredibly difficult for me to even get the sword to bite.”
“You just have to remove its protections,” Benji said.
Imogen stared at him for a moment, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “Protections” suggested that this would be some sort of enchantment, but from what she had seen from the adlet, she wasn’t sure if it was because of an enchantment or if it was simply something intrinsic to the creature itself.
Unbonded (First of the Blade Book 1) Page 9