“So?”
“Unless I’m to be your slave for the rest of my life, eventually I’m going to want my things back. They’ll get ruined out here, please can you spare a second to just bring them along?”
The boy sighed exasperatedly. “Lauryn, would you mind getting the prisoner’s weapon?”
“Um, I kinda threw it in the water.”
“You threw it in the—? Seriously Lauryn, you need to learn how to properly threaten somebody. Did it even occur to you to point it at her?”
“Why would I do something like that? I don’t even know how to use it!”
Norika let out an exaggerated sigh. “Could we get on with things here? My arms aren’t exactly comfortable like this.”
A few minutes late, after some more bickering and considerable splashing, Lauryn had retrieved the crossbow and hefted the small pack over her shoulder. “Now can we get back? The sooner we can prove to this crazy woman that Sukylar is innocent, the sooner we can get her out of our hair.”
* * * * *
Ky’ara whirled around, her sword glowing like a fiery wand as it reflected the light of the setting sun. Taren smiled to himself as he watched her work through the end of her practice routine. Her sword flowed through the movements like an extension of her arm—never getting in the way as she turned and rolled, always precisely where she meant it to be. She was better than he gave her credit for, though he still wished she’d leave the fighting to him and Joran. Anytime she put herself in harm’s way, he found himself fighting down panic. Ysinkai or not, it only took a single instant of bad luck to wind up dead.
He smiled faintly as Ky’ara caught him watching her, then looked up as Lauryn and Joran entered camp with the Elysian woman between them. He blinked twice. How had he failed to sense their approach? He should have sensed the proximity of another person long before they got this close. A frown creased his forehead. He hadn’t been that absorbed in watching Ky’ara, had he? Come to think of it, something had felt off ever since they’d first encountered the woman. She must have some means of masking her presence.
“Joran! How’d you find her?” Ky’ara wiped her sweaty forehead with an arm, leaving a smudge of dirt just below her hairline. Taren hid a smile, after weeks of being on the run, none of them were very clean.
“I didn’t, Lauryn did,” the boy replied.
“It wasn’t all that difficult.” Lauryn shrugged. “I was fishing and noticed something off about the bushes on the other shore, so I went to check it out and found her watching the camp.”
“You shouldn’t go off on your own like that,” Taren said, “what if you’d found a troll instead? Or what if she’d shot you?”
Lauryn rolled her eyes. “Give me a little credit, I know what a troll smells like from a hundred yards away.”
“And if she’d shot you?”
“She couldn’t have, I stole her crossbow first.”
Taren clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. If the girl wanted to be careless, so be it, it wasn’t his job to keep her safe. He’d learned a long time ago that arguing with women never accomplished anything.
“So what are we going to do with her?” Ky’ara asked, indicating the captive woman with a nod of her head.
“You don’t have to speak over my head you know, I’m not a child,” the Elysian woman said.
“At least we’re not shooting at you,” Joran commented dryly.
The woman glowered at him. “I didn’t try to shoot you. I could’ve you know, any number of times. Just give me that filthy traitorous murderer and I’ll leave you all in peace.”
“I don’t think you’re in any position to bargain,” Taren said, raising an eyebrow at her description of who she was after.
Sukylar approached from across the camp and stood with arms folded, watching the prisoner.
“Speak of a shade and one shall appear!” the Elysian said caustically.
“You’re the scout that escorted me into Brume,” Sukylar said, surprise showing on his face.
“Unfortunately for me.”
Sukylar furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand.”
A look of disbelief crossed the woman’s face, followed quickly by an expression of irritation. “You murdered Vivek and left me to deal with the consequences!”
Sukylar raised an eyebrow. The others looked at him expectantly. He ignored them and addressed the woman. “I didn’t kill Vivek.”
“Then why did you run without reporting what had happened?” Her accusing tone clearly expressed how little she believed him. He narrowed his eyes, assessing her.
“You followed me all the way here...to avenge Vivek? I thought you didn’t like him. Why do you care so much that he’s dead now?”
She clenched her jaw. “I let you in! So I was held responsible! Because of you I lost my position in the Patrol and any shred of respect I may have gained during the last decade of my life!”
“That seems a bit extreme. Surely an investigation would have easily determined that the killer was of supernatural origin. Does the Patrol really demote scouts over every little crime committed by those allowed in?”
“Murdering the head of the city’s intelligence unit isn’t just a ‘little’ crime! And it didn’t help that his housekeeper was my Reporting Officer’s sister.”
“I told you, I didn’t kill them,” Sukylar repeated calmly.
“Is this all just a misunderstanding then, Sukylar?” Ky’ara asked. Sukylar sighed and wiped a hand down the side of his face, resting it on his neck and rubbing absently.
“I guess she’s half-right. I didn’t kill Vivek personally, but I may as well have. It’s my fault those shadow monsters showed up in Brume. If I hadn’t asked him for information, he’d probably still be alive.”
Lauryn looked at him incredulously. “You mean she’s after you because those things killed someone? You had no idea they were going to show up! They nearly killed you too!”
He shrugged. “Still makes it my fault she was dismissed from her post.”
Taren watched with interest as the woman’s face went through a peculiar transformation while she listened to the exchange. Her expression started out skeptical, then passed through confused and angry before settling on vindicated.
“So what do we do with her then?” he asked, noting the easy way she stood despite her hands being restrained behind her.
“I have a name. And I thought I already told you I resent being talked about as though I am not right here!”
Taren rolled his eyes. Darkness was already falling, and he didn’t know what tomorrow had in store for them. Keeping this woman restrained all night would likely require an extra guard, which meant two of them giving up their sleep. He didn’t have the patience for this.
“I’m sorry we didn’t act with more courtesy,” Ky’ara said, “But you did shoot at us, remember? If you wanted to be called by your name then maybe you should have come and introduced yourself rather than sneaking around in the bushes.”
A puzzled look crossed the woman’s face, quickly disappearing behind a scowl.
Joran nudged her. “So are you gonna tell us your name or not?”
She stared at him as though daring him to try it again. A moment later she gave a terse answer.
“Norika.”
“Well, Norika, how do you propose we settle this?” Sukylar asked, taking the crossbow and pack from Lauryn and inspecting them idly.
“You can come with me to Brume and explain what happened there.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I’ll kill you first and drag your body there to explain instead.” Norika spoke angrily, her jaw clenched as she spit the words at him. She didn’t seem the least bit perturbed that she was restrained and unarmed, while he held her weapon.
“Who is the murderer now?” Sukylar said wryly.
Norika lunged forward suddenly, elbowing Joran to the side and ducking under Sukylar’s grab while snaking her foot behind his and yanking hard, sending
them both tumbling to the ground.
Joran recovered from his surprise, and he and Taren pulled the thrashing woman away from Sukylar before she could hurt him. He got back to his feet, wincing as he felt his now swollen nose and found it was bleeding.
“Shades-curse-it woman! What is wrong with you?”
Taren yanked the still struggling girl back before she could kick Sukylar again, and then nodded to Joran, who made a calculated jab at the side of her head, knocking her out. He had the presence of mind to look abashed as he helped Taren lower her inert form to the ground.
“If I may,” Lauryn chimed in, “There’s something off about the way she feels...the degree of anger she showed is unnatural, even if she does believe you’re responsible for her misfortune.”
Taren looked at the girl in surprise. “What do you mean, ‘there’s something off’? As in, you can sense something unnatural? I thought you didn’t have magic?”
Lauryn looked mildly annoyed. “I’m just perceptive, that’s all. You don’t have to have magic to be aware of others’ emotions.”
“You do if they’re Ky’ara’s,” Joran chimed in, grinning good-naturedly at her.
Ky’ara rolled her eyes at him and then looked at Lauryn curiously. “You said you could sense the dryads when they warned me a few weeks ago. And you can sense emotions—are you sure you don’t have magic?”
Lauryn shrugged, “If I do, it’s dormant.”
Ky’ara and Taren both looked at her quizzically. She sighed, “Doesn’t anyone know these things anymore? Apparently a small percentage of the population who fail the actual test for magic still exhibit some signs of it. In most cases they never actually have any trainable power, but in a select few that power becomes active at a later point in life. Usually after some sort of trauma.”
“And you’re one of those people?” Ky’ara asked, marveling that here was an explanation for how she had suddenly gained magic after the council’s assassinations, if she’d only thought to ask Myrnai about it. What else had she failed to ask that she would now never get an answer to?
Lauryn shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. I get feelings sometimes...little inklings about what’s going on around me that aren’t necessarily explainable by being observant. But if being abandoned at five years old wasn’t enough of a trauma to unlock it, I don’t know what will be.”
“It’s getting dark. We need to figure out what to do with your captive soon so we can go to sleep,” Taren said. “Whether she is under some sort of outside influence or not, the fact remains that someone needs to watch her. Do we set two guards or just one?”
“Let me try something first.” Ky’ara walked over to where Norika lay and crouched down next to her head. She used the Sight to look for anything unusual, like the strand of necromantic power that had been used to control the boy in the fishing village during their search for Eléirathös. When nothing came to her attention, she frowned and then gently took the woman’s head in her hands, using her healing Sight to probe deeper into Norika’s mind. It was something she’d never done before, but her instincts were usually trustworthy.
There was something there, she could sense it, but it was subtle—barely more than a whisper of darkness inside Norika’s mind. She probed it hesitantly, afraid it would respond the way that necromantic residue did. Instead it felt...soft. Ky’ara drew her power back, confused. The innocent-seeming shadow pulsed rhythmically with the ebb and flow of the woman’s thought patterns. She slowly imposed her magic between the darkness and Norika’s mind, gathering the foreign power carefully and pulling it away from the woman. It was difficult work. The apparently innocent shadow had melted into every nook and cranny, melding itself to the Elysian woman’s mind.
‘Help me with this,’ she asked Joran.
‘What do you need me to do?
‘When I give you the signal, shield her so it can’t go back in.’ She showed him what she was doing and felt his consciousness join hers in seeking out the shadow.
Finally, when she had all of it, Ky’ara forced the darkness up and away while Joran laid a shield against re-intrusion. As soon as it was pulled away from her mind, the darkness seemed to just melt away, disappearing into the air.
“Done?” Taren asked when she opened her eyes again.
She nodded and stood up, taking care not to bump the unconscious woman. “I think I took care of it.” Ky’ara used her Sight to look around for any remaining darkness and then nodded in satisfaction when she found none.
They carefully moved the prisoner to a spot where she could be easily monitored, and set about preparing for bed. Sukylar took the first watch, settling into a comfortable position against a tree, with his back to the lake and an easy view of the forest and camp. His eyes settled momentarily on the captive woman, a surge of unexpected pity going through him. She’d been wronged by Vivek’s death in a way that he couldn’t possibly have foreseen. It wasn’t her fault something had used her to target them. His nose throbbed, and he grimaced, remembering how she’d treated him during their first encounter, outside of Brume. She'd probably lost her post because she was too pushy and the scouts were sick of putting up with her crankiness. Any pity he felt evaporated and he found himself glaring at her sleeping form as the shadows lengthened and darkness fell over the clearing.
* * * * *
Icy blue eyes stared back at her in the mirror. Everyone always said the eyes reveal the truth of a person. She’d often contemplated the irony of that: her eyes were light, yet insatiable darkness loomed inside of her. Il’esandra put down the hairbrush she’d been using as she suddenly felt the unravelling of her influence over the Elysian girl. She smiled slowly, feeling that influence sink countless imperceptible tendrils into its new target. Not enough to cause alarm, just the tiny bit needed to gather information. She closed her eyes, relishing the feeling. The connection. It would take a while to sift through the information, but soon she would know her rival’s weakness. And then she would strike.
Chapter 4: Building Bridges
Hallahna shouted in triumph as her small band of warriors broke through the ranks of the battalion of soldiers they’d encountered just outside one of the small villages Calistra had sent them to scout. Not that it was any great victory—these cowards were easier to frighten than a flock of birds on a cold morning. The rows of uniformed soldiers were peppered with poorly outfitted villagers who had probably never fought a day in their lives.
It made the Shaari’s job both too easy and exceedingly difficult. Her wing-unit of ten warriors could force their way past and slaughter every last one of the village’s defenders without even calling on their dragons to help. But Calistra had asked her to avoid spilling unnecessary blood, particularly the local villagers’. Ultimately, things would be a lot harder for the rebellion if they couldn’t convince the ordinary people that they were on their side. And it was particularly difficult to convince someone to side with you when they had just watched you kill their kinsmen.
She raised her fist in the air, giving the signal to regroup. The others returned to her side—some with unmistakable reluctance—easily riding back through the dead and injured enemy soldiers lying on the ground around them. A few men looked back from their retreat, eyeing the gathered warriors with confusion and relief. Hallahna ignored them, trusting her companions to react appropriately should the fleeing soldiers turn back and attempt to attack. She dismounted and walked to the closest body, a young man wearing the dun tunic of a villager. His spear lay broken nearby, obviously cobbled together from a hunting knife and farming tool. She turned him over, heedless of the blood that soaked his chest, and felt for a pulse. He was dead. She stood and addressed her people. “Tend your wounds, then check the others—call me over if you find anyone still breathing.”
Hallahna walked past more bodies wearing the red and black uniforms, leaving them to her people, until she encountered another villager. This one was in better shape than the last. He was conscious and struggling to reach fo
r his axe (a tool clearly more suited to splitting wood than skulls). She nudged it away with her foot and pointed her glaive at the man. “Don’t move. What are your injuries?”
He cringed away from her weapon and swallowed convulsively. “Please,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “Please spare me, lady. I’ve a daughter not more’un two years old. I jus—”
“Your injuries,” Hallahan interrupted him, “What are they?”
His eyes shifted sideways, taking in what the other Shaari warriors were doing. He seemed to take courage from their failure to harm any of the bodies they examined.
“I think it’s my ribs. They hurt somethin’ awful. And I got hit in the ‘ead pretty hard.”
“Can you walk?”
“I think so. The rest is jus’ bruises.” He grimaced as he shifted sideways.
Hallahna called for Ihllya and Hovohk, the two closest of her warriors, to come help the man to his feet.
“Your people may come bury their dead and tend to the wounded,” she told him briskly, “We will not harm them nor enter the village during that time. Tell them we wish to speak with whomever is in charge—the village leader, not the soldiers’.”
Confusion knit the man’s brows together. He nodded once, and then started walking back towards the village, wincing as each step jolted his broken ribs. Suddenly he stopped, and Hallahna tensed, but he just veered to the side and knelt next to one of the wounded. Hallahna relaxed her grip on her glaive. Her companions looked to her questioningly and she waved for them to rejoin the others searching for survivors. The man was bent in grief, his own wounds apparently forgotten in the face of encountering his fallen companion.
Hallahna approached, observed the fallen villager for a moment, and then spoke. “He will have a better chance of surviving if you return to the village quickly. Waiting out here does him no good.”
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