Dreg (The Dreg Trilogy Book 1)

by Bethany Hoeflich

  Mara gasped and fell back on her heels, reeling at the implications. For a dreg to fall in love with a disciple… it was death. Not just for her, but for the entire family.

  “Saw him at Ole Pete’s tavern one night and he was singin’. Had a voice that could make a Guardian cry, I swear it. His face was pretty enough, but it was his voice that I loved from the start. He knew the risk, but he’d sneak off to see me almost every night, ya know? He knew what would happen if we got caught. Said he didn’t care and I was worth it. Told me he loved me, too. Wasn’t long before I realized my blood was late. Daniel promised we’d run away together and be a family. Just him, me and the baby. But the Order found out,” Wynn said, breath hitching in her throat. Mara placed a hand on her back, blinking back tears, and waited for her to continue.

  Wynn swallowed thickly, wiping a hand across her eyes, leaving streaks of mud behind on her face. She stood suddenly, walking to the house with stiff, jerky movements. Mara scrambled after her, eager yet terrified to hear the rest. Wynn stopped in the broken remains of what had once been the kitchen.

  “Five disciples showed up, dragging Daniel’s body behind them. They killed Miriam first, then all of the children. Me? They tortured me, cutting me up slowly. Laughed the whole time, saying that one less dreg and her spawn wouldn’t be missed. They were doing the world a favor. In the end, they left me for dead, expecting that I’d bleed out from my wounds. I lost the baby.”

  Mara’s hands tightened into fists until her nails cut into her palms. Just how many lives had the Order destroyed? Too many.

  “Took me a week before I could move well enough. By then, the bodies were swollen up and rotting, but I buried them. Each and every one. Then, I ran. Spent every minute hiding, jumping at shadows, sure that the Order would catch me. Until I met Tova, that is. Taking care of her filled a hole in my heart and gave me a purpose for living. I love that little girl like she’s my own flesh and blood.”

  Mara wrapped her arms around Wynn, who stiffened, probably thinking she was under attack. Hadn’t anyone hugged her before? “I’m so sorry that happened to you. I promise that the Order will pay for this, and everything else they’ve done.”

  Wynn removed Mara’s arms and stepped away, brushing her white gown. “Yeah, well, enough mushy stuff. Ya need some sleep, love.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get right on that,” Mara said. Fat chance she’d be able to sleep at all, after hearing Wynn’s story. If she got an hour of sleep, she’d consider herself lucky. She paused in the doorway and looked back. “You know, when we first met, I never expected that we’d be friends.”

  Wynn snorted. “Not sure if I’d call us friends, yet. I’ll prolly kill ya in the morning.”

  Mara smiled. She was used to the death threats by now. “I would expect nothing less,” she said, walking out into the night.

  ***

  “Wake up, ya lazy lug.”

  The sharp pain of a boot kicking her ribs was enough to wake Mara up and she blinked slowly. A heavy weight settled on her chest and her eyes flew open at the feeling of cool metal at her neck. Wynn’s smile, inches from Mara’s face, was a truly disconcerting sight to awaken to. She groaned and tried to roll over. “Let me sleep five more minutes, then you can kill me.”

  “No can do, girly. Ya know too much,” Wynn growled, her savage grin growing wide enough to tug at the scars on her cheeks. Then, she hopped up and reached a hand down to help Mara stand.

  “This has been the worst assassination attempt in history,” Mara said, brushing the last remnants of sleep from her eyes. How was it morning already?

  “Nah, if I wanted ya dead, you’d be dead. Now come on. Yer our ticket to breakfast,” Wynn said, walking out of the barn with almost supernatural speed.

  “Wait, what?” Mara threw on her tunic and pulled on her boots before stepping outside.

  Steel, Mikkal and Ansel stood by an old well. Tova was missing, again, though Mara had grown used to the tiny girl disappearing when it suited her. Chances were, she’d return with a tasty treat and Mara’s stomach rumbled at the thought. Mikkal pulled a bucket from the well and brought it to his lips for a taste. He smacked his lips together, then nodded, handing it over to Steel for a drink. Mara rushed over for a turn, elbowing Ansel playfully in the side.

  “Morning, Ansel.”

  He crossed his arms and turned to her, his face morphing into a blank mask. She took a step back, feeling as though a chasm had grown between them and she had no idea how to fix it. Her best friend had become little more than a stranger now. Ansel drank his fill from the bucket, then walked away, ignoring her existence.

  Steel frowned at the retreating figure. “Just give him some time, Mara. He’ll come around.”

  Would that work? Mara shook her head. Not a chance. If she let this go, it would only get worse. She trotted after him, determined to work this out once and for all.

  It didn’t take long to find him. Ansel reclined against a dead tree trunk with his eyes closed. He must have heard her boot steps approaching, because he cracked his eyes open and gave her a sad smile. “Remember the last time we went to our lake? It was just the two of us then, you know? You were real then, more than ever, like a pebble I could hold in my hand. I wish we could go back and have that again.”

  Mara sat down beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I was so worried about fitting in and getting everyone to like me back then. It seems so silly now.”

  “You’ve changed. I feel like you’re growing too fast and you’re going to leave me behind,” Ansel said, reaching out to hold her hand. “I don’t know how to get you to slow down.”

  “You know I’m not going to leave you.

  “Aren’t you?” He threaded his fingers through hers. “Do you remember what I said back then? I can’t watch my best friend die. I… this path you’re leading us on is dangerous. Look at what happened in Kearar. Mara… I’m scared. I can’t always be there to protect you.”

  She tilted her head back to look him in the eyes. “I know you can’t, and you don’t have to be. Just having you here by my side is enough. I couldn’t have made it this far without your support, Ansel.”

  “I saved something for you,” he said, reaching into the pocket of his tunic. He pulled something out and placed it in her hand. “I thought you might want it.”

  Mara opened her hands to see the wolf carving that Tobias had made. Now, its snout gleamed with a polished shine, as though his finger brushed against it every day. She gave Ansel a questioning look.

  He ducked his head. “It seems childish, but I rub its nose for luck.”

  “No, that’s perfect,” Mara said. She blinked back the tears that threatened to fall down her cheeks. “Thank you, but I think you should keep it. I’ve always thought of you as a wolf.”

  “Really? That’s… weird, but okay?” Ansel said, taking the carving back and tucking it back inside his tunic.

  Mara clutched her midsection and laughed until she thought she was going to vomit. When was the last time she’d laughed so hard? She couldn’t even remember.

  Wynn stormed over, interrupting their talk. “If yer about done with yer chit chatting, some of us want some food!”

  “Yeah, about that… what did you say about me being our ticket to breakfast?” Mara regretted the question when Wynn merely cackled over her shoulder.

  ***

  The tavern stood as a lone building in a wasteland sea of nothingness, the only sign of civilization for miles. Mara idly wondered if the land was cursed to be empty. As they approached the building, she couldn’t help but feel like this was a mistake. Their best chance for survival was to avoid people, not walk right up to them.

  Wynn grabbed her by the shoulder, spinning her around until they were nose to nose. “Okay, here’s what ya need to do. Walk right in there and start wreckin’ stuff.”

  Was she being serious? Mara was supposed to stroll right in and start attacking everyone?

  “She is not going in t
here alone,” Ansel said, trying, and failing, to step between them.

  “Course she is, lover boy. The only thing Lingate respects is strength, and you can bet your last bits on that. Mara’s the strongest of us all, so she’ll be going in there alone,” Wynn said, crossing her arms, her expression brokering no argument.

  Steel scoffed at the idea of being weaker than a nineteen year- old girl.

  “Can ya blow stuff up with your head, hmm? If not, shut up and let her work,” Wynn said, pushing Mara towards the door. “Look, I knew the owner here, Ole Pete. Real peach of a man, honest. Used to sneak us kids sweets when his witch of a wife wasn’t looking. If she caught ya, well, you’d better run before her broom caught yer hindquarters. Anyway, he’s not about to hand over food unless ya prove yourself. So, if ya walk in there with yer fancy please and thank ya’s, yer gonna get killed real quick. Walk in, blow up a few tables, knock out some teeth, and get us breakfast. Ya got this, girly.”

  With an evil cackle and a shouted ‘good luck’, Wynn shoved Mara inside the tavern. Silence fell over the tavern as she stumbled inside. At least twenty pairs of eyes turned to stare at her, sizing her up. Mara turned slowly, taking stock of her surroundings. The room was dark and dingy, the crusted windows blocking more light than they allowed in. Worse still were the people. They seemed to have a rough edge to them, as though they ate gravel for breakfast and asked for seconds. She winced. There were no women. More than a few patrons leered openly, running their eyes down her body. It was enough to set her off.

  She still had no idea what she was doing as far as her powers went. All of her previous attempts at using her new Gift felt clumsy and disjointed. If she made it out of here alive, the first thing she would do was find a mentor. Someone to teach her how to use her powers. For now? She’d just have to wing it.

  Her power grew, and she funneled it through her hands and out towards one of the particularly seedy looking men. It missed, but still managed to explode his mug of ale, sending a shower of amber liquid into his face. The man jumped up, swiping a hairy arm across his eyes.

  Without giving him a chance to retaliate— because honestly, he’d crush her— Mara blasted him back into the wall. She winced as his head hit the wooden beam with a deafening crack. Her heart stopped for a second. She didn’t want to kill him! Curse Wynn for suggesting this insanity. To her relief, the man shook his head, dazed, and crawled towards the exit.

  Five more of the patrons stood, moving to surround her. She glanced over at the door, calculating her chances of escape before she was beaten to a pulp. Her friends peeked around the corner of the door with concerned looks on their faces. All except Wynn, of course. She was laughing like a madwoman.

  “Wynn, if I die, I swear I will kill you,” Mara called, elbowing someone in the face. She twisted around, planting her boot in another man’s stomach.

  “That’s the spirit, girly!”

  Mara shook her head, focusing back on the fight. A beast of a man, over a head taller than her, had grabbed hold of her wrist. Without thinking, she sent a bolt of energy through her arm and zapped him. He let go with a startled yelp and tripped backwards over chairs in his haste to get away. Several more slipped out of the door.

  She grinned at the remaining patrons, gathering her power in her hands. Her eyes widened. For the first time, she could see the glowing white energy as it formed into luminous spheres in her palms. This was actually pretty fun, she decided as she hurled one man over the bar area. The crash of glass echoed around the tight room.

  Within minutes, she subdued everyone inside the Tavern. All but one. The last man stood, brushing his ginger hair away from his face. He clapped his hands as his lithe body moved between the shattered tables. He turned to face her, his green eyes sparkling.

  “I’m impressed. Then again, I’ve never fought an Impriga before,” he said, looking her up and down as though sizing her up. “You’re smaller than I expected for an energy wielder. Then again, I’ve never actually met one.”

  Impriga? She’d heard that word before, back when they were fleeing the Ghost Keep. The disciples mentioned an Impriga… is that what she was?

  “So, what are you?” Mara asked, keeping him in her sights as he tried to circle around her.

  In response, he held up his hands, and two tiny flames appeared in the center of his palms. Mara groaned. An Ignis. How fantastic. Well, she hoped the others enjoyed their breakfast while she burned to death. How was she supposed to fight a flame wielder? Her Gift was apparently useful for throwing men into trees and exploding mugs of ale, but she didn’t know any defense against fire.

  Without warning, he shot a burst of flame at her head. She ducked, feeling the heat singe her hair. Another fire sprung up at her feet. She jumped, retaliating with a blast of white energy. He twisted out of the way, pushing his palms together before pulling them apart. She watched the growing fireball with wide eyes, heart pounding. It was bigger than her head! His lips quirked up as he sent it flying towards her chest.

  The world slowed, and she felt frozen to the floor, helpless to watch as it hit her. At the last second, completely out of ideas, Mara raised her arms in front of her chest and closed her eyes, preparing for the inevitable agony. A beat passed. She cracked her eyes open, confused, yet grateful, about why she wasn’t burning alive yet. A white shield of pure energy coated her from head to foot, shielding her from the fireball. She focused on the flame. It almost felt… alive. She tilted her head, stretching out her hand to touch it. In an instant, it dissipated in a puff of smoke.

  The Ignis stared at her, jaw slackened. Then, he turned and ran out of the tavern as fast as his legs could carry him.

  From the doorway, her friends cheered and raced inside. Steel picked her up, spinning her around in a dizzying circle. “You did it! You actually did it!”

  “Not bad, kid,” Wynn said, punching her in the arm. Mara winced. That would leave a bruise tomorrow. “I told ya you could do it.”

  That reminded her.

  “What were you thinking? I could have been killed! Mara said, picking up an empty mug and throwing it at Wynn’s head.

  Wynn laughed and dodged it effortlessly. “But ya weren’t! Yer gettin’ stronger!”

  “Not the point you crazy lunatic!” Mara picked up a chair, raising it above her head, reading to throw it at her insane friend.

  “Excuse me, miss. If you don’t stop destroying my tavern, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  Mara whirled around and stared at the speaker, whom she could only assume was Pete, the tavern’s owner. He was a wizened old man with a bent back and a thin, receding hairline. She watched in shock as Wynn launched herself across the room and jumped into his arms. Wynn pulled him in for a tight hug and pressed a giant kiss to his cheek while the rest of them watched the exchange, bewildered.

  “Ahh, my Winnie. How I’ve missed you,” Pete said, smiling fondly. “Where’ve you been the last few years?”

  “Ya know, here and there,” Wynn said before introducing them in turn. Pete seemed to recognize Tova, mussing her hair with his wrinkled hands.

  “As talkative as ever, I see. Let me go fix something for you to eat. And please, keep an eye on your violent friend here. As it is, she chased off some of my best customers.”

  “So, wait. I didn’t have to fight everyone here in order to get some breakfast?” Mara asked, incredulous. She glared daggers at Wynn, who smirked and set up a table for them. Oh, she was definitely going to pay for this later.

  “Course not! What sorta stupid, hair brained idea was that? All you had to do was say please and thank you and I would have cooked you up something right quick,” Pete said, disappearing into the kitchen.

  Steel let out a strangled noise, which sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

  Wynn turned a chair around and straddled it, leaning forward to cross her arms over the backrest. She stared at Mara like she was an experiment. “Tell me, do ya feel weak? Strong? If I threw a dozen more Gifte
d at ya, could ya fight ‘em off?”

  Mara frowned, caught off guard by the rapid questions. The others wore openly curious expressions. “Well, I suppose I do feel a bit weak. I don’t know what I’m doing after all.”

  Wynn nodded, as though she expected that answer. “Right, well, our first goal is to get ya to Tregydar. If yer gonna train, ya need a safe place to do it. Should have gone there to begin with.” She shot a pointed look at Steel. In one fluid motion, she turned the chair back around and leaned back into it, propping her boots on the table. “Then, yer gonna train and get stronger. And then, yer gonna burn the Order to the ground.”

  Realization struck. “So, this was a test?”

  “We got a winner, folks!”

  “Umm, aren’t there easier ways to do that other than throwing me into a room full of hostile Gifted?”

  “Sure, but they’re not as fun,” Wynn replied, picking at her teeth.

  “Get your dirty boots off my table, Winnie. You know better than that,” Pete said, smacking the back of her head with his elbow. Wynn grumbled, but obeyed as the tavern owner filled the table with eggs, salted pork, fresh bread and mugs of ale. Mara barely restrained herself from inhaling the food.

  Steel’s manners were leagues better than the rest of them. He dipped his head politely and said, “Thank you, sir. We appreciate your fine hospitality.”

  Pete waved him off. “It’s no trouble at all. To tell you the truth, it’s a breath of fresh air having someone to serve other than the usual lot. Some of the regulars, well, they’d spit in the food and call it seasoning.”

  Wynn laughed and said, “That sounds about right. So, Pete. What’s up with the dead land? Never seen it this bad before.”

  “I figured you’d notice that. There’s trouble brewing in Orgate. Warlord Bridgette is pulling all the Cultors back to the capital and, without their Gift to keep the land healthy, it just… dies.”

  “She’s still Warlord? It’s gotta be going on two years at least.”