The Silent Tempest (Book 2)

by Michael G. Manning

  The spectators were beginning to disperse, bored with the lack of activity, but the shield around the arena remained up. Haley would remain until her opponent was dead.

  Haley sensed a movement, a flash of aythar. One of the teen’s ribs, the one threatening his lung, moved back, fusing with another piece of bone and giving his heart and lungs some much needed space. He hissed, air coming painfully from between clenched teeth as he set the rib back in place.

  Her eyes widened as she watched, realizing he was healing himself. If his strength didn’t give out, he might manage enough to keep himself from dying. She could see an artery sealing itself now, stopping the majority of the bleeding within his chest. The boy’s eyes glared daggers at her as he worked, as though he blamed her for each painful moment.

  “I’m going to kill you,” he growled.

  “Why?” she said. Tears were trickling from her eyes once more. “Why do you want to kill me? I never did anything to you.”

  The youth sneered, “Because you’re stupid. You don’t deserve to live.” Most of his ribs were whole now, but his aythar was so weak it flickered in her magesight. “I’m going to kill you, and then they’ll give me my name.”

  Haley knew it was futile. She couldn’t kill him, but she couldn’t let him heal himself either. It would be easier if he just finished dying. Without thinking she lashed out, using her aythar to stop him from closing the last leaking blood vessel. It was a medium sized vein that had been leaking blood slowly into his chest.

  He fought her, opposing her will with his own, and the two of them struggled silently for several seconds, he to hold the flesh of the vessel together, and she to keep it open—to let the blood flow. His strength failed almost immediately, and in the absence of his resistance she ripped the vein further, causing it to bleed faster. It had been unintentional, but her stomach twisted as she felt the damage she had done.

  Hate-filled eyes stared accusingly at her. As soon as she released him he began to try to close the vein once more.

  “Just die!” she shouted. With desperate strength she drove her power into his chest and pulled. Skin, ribs, and sternum ruptured, sending a gout of flesh and blood upward as she wrenched his chest open. He couldn’t even scream.

  Haley watched him die, his aythar fading and his eyes glazing over. Something warm dripped from her nose, leaving a sticky trail across her lips. Some of his blood had gotten on her.

  Her heart was pounding, and her knees felt weak, but she still felt a sense of relief. He was dead, and she was alive. The shield around the arena faded, and she knew it was over. Raising a hand she tried to wipe the blood away from her lips, but the more she wiped the more she tasted the sharp tang of iron.

  A hand fell on her shoulder. Dalleth stood beside her.

  “A grisly victory, but a victory still. You will receive a name tomorrow,” said the She’Har trainer.

  Haley wanted to argue. She already had a name, but Tyrion had warned her. “Just accept it,” he had said.

  Gwaeri was close by as well. Dalleth turned to him and gave one more instruction, “Take her back to her cell. Have her whipped until she loses consciousness.”

  “What?!” exclaimed Haley. “I did what you wanted!”

  Dalleth gave her a cold glance, “You will learn not to play in the arena. Pain is a valuable teaching tool.”

  Chapter 14

  The wagon rolled on down the trail, following it ever lower until it reached the river that ran through the rugged foothills where Colne was situated. The river continued on, eventually passing beyond the rugged land and into the ever growing forest before finally crossing into the Illeniel Grove.

  The wagon couldn’t take such a direct course, though. It would have to cross the river and follow the level ground on the other side. The trail would lead up and away from the river again before paralleling it on its journey to the deep woods.

  The ford where the trail met the river was shallow, but the jumbled rocks that lay under the water made a difficult crossing for wagons. Kate and Gabriel got off there and helped the other teens push and pull, aiding the horses as they struggled to make the crossing. One of the wheels slipped into a deep hole that had been hidden among the rocks, but with numerous hands lifting they got it free and made it across.

  Tyrion slept through the entire process, his fatigue too great for even the jolting movements to rouse him.

  Hours passed, and they reached the edge of the forest without further problems. The land flattened there, still rocky, it held numerous oaks and elms, along with a scattering of ash trees. A mile farther and the ground became softer and more fertile, and there the god trees began, visible even from their current position, the massive forms loomed over the smaller oaks.

  Gabriel put a hand on Kate’s shoulder, “There’s someone out there.”

  She looked at him worriedly, “Where?”

  “Straight ahead,” said the boy. “There are a bunch of them, too far to see from here. I think they’re like him.” Gabriel scrunched his face as he spoke, as if trying to bring something into focus without knowing quite how to do so. Squinting obviously wasn’t working for him. “It’s hard to tell exactly how many, and I’m not sure how far away either. I’m not used to this.”

  “They could be friendly,” observed Kate. “This is the direction he wanted us to go.” The words brought her no comfort, though. Daniel’s comments in the past had made it clear that the term ‘friendly’ was a poor adjective to apply to any of the She’Har.

  “I want to go home,” suggested Ashley Morris. She had been listening from her position behind the wagon. “Who knows what will happen if we go in there?”

  Gabriel opened his mouth, unsure what to say.

  Kate knew better than to hesitate, “We will wait. Daniel will know what to do when he wakes.”

  “Stop calling me that,” said Tyrion quietly. The sudden stillness of the wagon had woken him when the movement and jostling could not.

  “You’re awake,” she responded with obvious relief.

  “There are some people ahead of us,” said Gabriel leaning close to Tyrion’s head anxiously. “We don’t know how many exactly or whether…”

  “There are twelve,” said Tyrion impatiently. “Eight women, four men, and one She’Har trainer from the Centyr Grove.” He started to sit up, but a wave of pain and nausea made him think better of the idea.

  “I think they’re coming toward us now,” added Gabriel.

  “Yeah,” agreed Tyrion. “One of their scouts got closer, and now they know we’re here.” He looked over at Kate, “And no, to answer your question, they are not friendly.”

  Jack Baker, another of the boys who was paying close attention to the conversation, began to groan in fear.

  “Somebody shut that kid up before I kill him,” growled Tyrion.

  Jack began to groan even louder, but before Kate could say a word one of the girls, Sarah Wilson, struck him hard, slapping the boy with her open palm. “Shut up, Jack!”

  Jack didn’t take well to being slapped. He started to react by punching Sarah, but a second boy, Ryan Carter, drove his fist into Jack’s stomach. “Dammitt, Jack,” said Ryan in a hoarse whisper. “Be quiet. This ain’t the time to be fighting or crying.”

  Jack was on his knees now, gasping for air, but doing so as quietly as possible.

  “So what are we going to do?” asked Kate, drawing everyone’s attention back to Tyrion before they could do further violence to one another.

  “Not much,” said Tyrion. “There are three possibilities. One, you run, they capture you, and within an hour you’ll be collared, naked, and whipped into submission. The second option is waiting here, fighting, being captured, and then within an hour you’ll be collared, stripped, and then whipped into submission…”

  “What about the third option?” asked Tad anxiously.

  “I’m too injured to fight,” Tyrion informed him, “but I can try something else.”

  “What’s yo
ur plan?” prompted Tad.

  “There’s a storm coming,” said Tyrion. The wind had picked up a little over the past minute, becoming a brisk breeze.

  “What’s the plan?” said Gabriel, adding his voice to Tad’s.

  Tyrion said a word, but Tad couldn’t understand him. The horses shifted, their heads lowering and their eyes drawing closed as they fell suddenly asleep. Tyrion looked at Tad, “Get the rope out that your father put in the wagon. Cut it into lengths and have everyone tie themselves to the wagon. If anyone else can fit in the bed, they should climb in as well. The extra weight might help.”

  “Help what?” said Kate.

  “Help keep the wagon from blowing away,” responded Tyrion. His eyes were distant now, staring up toward the sky.

  Tad was staring at Tyrion uncertainly. Kate punched his arm.

  “Move!” she barked at him. “Get the rope! We need to tie ourselves down quickly.” The wind was beginning to whistle as it moved through the trees around them now, making a high pitched keening sound.

  “I don’t understand,” announced Gabriel. “He isn’t doing anything. Where is the wind coming from?”

  Tyrion didn’t answer, his eyes were glassy, unfocused.

  Kate looked at Gabriel, curious. “Are you saying he isn’t controlling the wind?”

  Gabriel nodded.

  When the wind had first come up, she had felt hope, but now fear touched her heart. She looked around her, watching as the teens awkwardly tied themselves to the wagon. Ropes might not be enough, she thought. In the distance there was a roaring sound.

  Kate looked back at Gabriel, “Can you make another of those shield things? Like you did during the fight earlier?”

  “M—maybe,” answered the boy.

  “Then do it,” she told him. Her hair was standing out from the side of her head, parallel to the ground. The air was rushing about them, plucking at their clothes. A limb broke away from a tree and flew past.

  Gabriel wasn’t sure if it was necessary or not, but taking a heavy wooden spoon from the wagon he began tracing a circle in the ground around the group. It took him half a minute to finish it, and by then the gale was threatening to lift him from the ground. Repeating what he had done before, he poured his strength into it, creating a rough hemisphere above them. The wind cut off abruptly, but he could feel it battering the invisible dome.

  Kate was alarmed to see Tyrion’s body rising from the wagon, floating as if he weighed nothing. His features were limp, and his limbs seemed loose. She grabbed hold and pushed him down, pinning him with her own body. There was no wind inside Gabriel’s shield, but Tyrion felt light, as though he had been hollowed out and stuffed with feathers.

  “Wake up, Daniel!” she shouted at him, but there was no sign that he heard her.

  The roar of the wind was deafening now, a solid wall of sound that devoured all hearing. The trees around them were bending and starting to break. Heavy limbs flew through the air, striking their protective dome and bouncing away. Entire trees began to come free from the ground, ripped skyward, roots and all.

  A deep shuddering vibration passed through Kate’s stomach as a massive elm slammed into the shield. Gabriel fell to one knee, but he retained consciousness and somehow his shield held. The tree began to slide away, but then Brigid Tolburn stood.

  The girl’s eyes were on the tree, and it stopped moving, as though she held it pinned there. Her arms were outstretched, fingers grasping at the space around her, as though she was gripping something invisible. Another tree struck the shield and then stopped, its branches tangling with the first elm that was still there.

  Kate could see the others crying, covering their heads, shouting, or attempting to climb underneath the wagon itself. She could hear none of it, of course, for the roaring outside the shield was so great that no other sound could overcome it.

  Gabriel was kneeling, hands held against his ears while blood dripped from his nose. More trees struck the shield, but each one seemed to catch, twining its branches with the other trees already there. A great wooden palisade of fallen and tangled oaks and elms was forming around them.

  Brigid stood in the center, mouth open, and Kate knew that if the roaring stopped she would hear the girl screaming. The dark headed girl’s blue eyes were wide, and her hair flew around her, carried by a wind that seemed to touch only her.

  Is she the one binding the trees together like that? wondered Kate. She had no way of knowing, since she couldn’t sense aythar, but it seemed unlikely that Gabriel was doing it. He seemed to have his hands full just maintaining the shield, and the others were clearly in a state of panic.

  She looked at Daniel. His body was no longer just light, it felt wrong, as if he were becoming insubstantial. The light was fading as trees covered the dome above them, but it appeared as if his arms were fading.

  “Daniel!” she shouted, hoping she could wake him, but she couldn’t even hear her own voice. Leaning close, she tried yelling again, this time directly into his ear. Again there was no response. He continued staring blankly into space.

  It might have been an illusion in the darkness that was now enveloping them, but she could no longer see his legs.

  Something is wrong, she thought. This can’t be what he intended to happen.

  Her arm felt as though it was about to pass through him. The only thing still solid about him now was his face. Not knowing what else to do, she took his left ear lobe into her mouth and bit down.

  He never flinched.

  She bit him again, harder this time, until the taste of blood found her tongue. “Wake up, damn you!” she shouted. “Wake up, or I’ll bite this ear off to make it match the other one!” Years before he had lost most of his outer right ear when a warden had cut it off.

  His eyes blinked, and his chest seemed to grow more substantial.

  Unwilling to bite him again she kissed his ear instead, something she had once dreamed of doing. Once, she thought, before you became a monster.

  He shivered and cold silver eyes turned to regard her, alien eyes. They were grey now, as if they were made of swirling mist, with no whites, or even pupils or irises.

  A feeling of revulsion swept over her. She knew then, whatever she was touching, whatever she had kissed—it wasn’t human. It stared at her with no sense of feeling or humanity. Kate drew back, and the eyes moved away. Tyrion began to fade again.

  “Damn you!” she cursed. Grabbing his head she nipped his ear once more, before kissing it again. The eyes turned toward her, and steeling her stomach against the disgust she felt she drew his lips toward her own. They were cold and unresponsive.

  It was like kissing the dead.

  But the cold flesh around his mouth was growing warmer.

  She clung to him and kissed him harder, fighting herself even as she did. Soon his arms were back, and he turned, pushing her onto her side, his tongue sliding between her lips. The noise outside the tangled barrier of trees faded, and the wind slowed.

  One of his hands was searching now, making its way under her blouse, tracing cold lines along her stomach. Kate pushed down, trying to keep his hand away, but he growled and forced it up, grasping rudely at her flesh, clutching at her breast.

  “Daniel, no! Let me go,” she protested, trying to push him away.

  Tyrion’s mouth opened, but nothing like human words emerged. It was a bizarre sound, like the rustling of trees in the wind. Swirling silver eyes looked through Kate, but still he held her down. He forced her onto her back before blinking, his eyes shifting even as she watched.

  Blinking again, the silver mist vanished, replaced by blue human eyes.

  No, not human eyes, Kate realized, more like the eyes of a beast.

  Tyrion was still groping with his hand, heedless of her protests.

  “Stop, Daniel!” she shouted. “Not now, not like this!”

  He froze then, looking deeply into her eyes. He seemed confused. “Who are you?” he asked suddenly, using the first human word
s to enter his mind.

  She took the opportunity presented by his hesitation to disentangle herself. Gazing back at him, she studied his features. They seemed to present genuine puzzlement, but there were thoughts passing behind his eyes now. Whatever his transformation had been, it had apparently scrambled his mind just as it had altered his body.

  He appeared to be fully physical, but there was something different.

  His ear!

  The lower half of his right ear was no longer missing. It perfectly matched the left one, with no visible sign of the wound that had once removed most of it. His eyes were locked onto hers now.

  “Kate?” he said, questioning his own recognition even as he remembered her.

  She moved farther away. Is that even him—or is it something else, just pretending?

  Brigid still stood beside the wagon, her body locked into some sort of rictus. Her mouth was wide, as though she were screaming, but no sound came out. Tyrion became aware of her odd condition and climbed out of the wagon, walking over to stand next to her.

  His thoughts felt strange, but they were clearer. The girl had come into her power, but the stress and newness of the situation had made her exert herself in a way she was not prepared for. She was killing herself, straining against something that was no longer there. Tendrils of aythar extended in every direction, winding and tangling themselves through the fallen trees above them. Brigid’s lips were tinged blue.

  He slapped her with enough force to send her tumbling from her feet.

  Brigid stared up at him in shock, and then her chest heaved, drawing air in a desperate choking gasp. She had forgotten to breath.

  The structure above their heads shifted. Without the young woman’s power to hold it together, the trees were no longer stable. A massive oak slid sideways and then broke free, dropping rapidly toward the wagon. Other trees moved in its wake, falling in an avalanche toward the people beneath them.

  Tyrion lifted his hand, swiping at the air as if brushing away a fly, his aythar followed suit, knocking the heavy trunks and limbs away so that they fell outward, rather than inward. He looked down at Gabriel Evans, who was unconscious at his feet. The feedback when his shield had given way was the most likely cause for his senseless condition.